The Dragonborn
by DragonsKing83
Summary: Harry dies as the Master of Death and is then chosen for a greater destiny. However he could never be normal in any world. He is born the son of Lyanna Stark & Rhaegar Targaryen; only this time they both survive in exile. The game has changed forever & one special young man makes all the difference. The legend of the Dragonborn has arrived with Rhaenys and Daenerys by his side.
1. Chapter 1

**Dragonborn**

 _Harry dies as the Master of Death directly after the Battle of Hogwarts; hit in the back with Lucius Malfoy's Killing Curse. He's given a choice, and chooses to experience a different life; a life with family and love in a land far different to that from which he came. But Harry Potter could never be normal in any world. He is born the eldest son of Lyanna Stark and Prince Rhaegar Targaryen; only this time Rhaegar survives the Battle at the Trident in secret due to the action's of Ned Stark just as Lyanna survive's the birth of their son. As the fleet of Stannis Baratheon is closing in, they flee with the Royal Fleet intact to the Free Cities in exile. Here is where our story begins. The game has changed and the player's evolve as one special and talented young boy make's all the difference. The legend of the Dragonborn has awoken. The world of the Song of Ice and Fire will never be the same again. Winter is Coming and it's coming with Fire and Blood!_

 **Author's Note-** _This is a completely redone version of my previous A Song of Ice and Fire/Harry Potter Crossover that I had begun a while back. After reading 'Dragon of the North' by Tellie571 (which is amazing story that I loved btw), I got a large burst of inspiration to re-do it and try again. This is the result. So far, I have well over the first 100,000 words written, so updates will be steady and frequent for a while. I've been working on finishing up some of my other stories along with writing some new one's, and I've got a fair amount done, but I won't post those till I've finished. Anyhow, as this is both as cross-over as well as an alternative universe story, some things are different, whist some remain more or less the same. For example, in this fic, Lyarra Stark was only the mother of Brandon and Ned while Lyanna and Benjen's mother was Rickard's second wife and a niece of Jon Arryn. Also, I just don't write fics where the good guy's always tend to lose (like canon) and my protagonist in this fic may be too over-powered or whatever, but this is meant as a more light-hearted and fun story- though there will of course be troubles and it is a serious fic. This will be blowing canon right out of the water so if you are a canon Nazi or like things done a certain way; this may not be for you. This is only written for fun because I enjoy it- in other words, I don't care about every little mistake being pointed out. Again, if you don't like it- I don't particularly care. So, read if you want, and maybe you'll enjoy it too. Cheer's!_

 **DISCLAIMER-** I OWN NOTHING! Like seriously, even my dog is not really mine!

 **Chapter One**

 **Ned I.- Part I**

 _The Expectation's of Eddard Stark_

Ned watched as the pyre burned; sparking higher and brighter as the flame's leapt all around. He heard the crackling of the logs as the fire consumed them. Howland stood by his side; the only other witness of what Ned supposed was the closest thing to a funeral the Prince of Dragonstone was likely to ever receive. As the flames grew higher and more brilliant, Ned became lost in his thought's.

How was he supposed to feel about this? The Crown Prince Rhaegar Targaryen was dead. He was defeated by the war hammer of his best friend, and he reckoned new 'king', Robert of the House Baratheon of Storm's End. Despite their friendship, he did not know exactly what kind of a king Robert would become. When all of the insanity began, he never would have dreamed they would crown Robert of all people as King of the Seven Kingdom's.

Yet, they had done exactly that.

Well, more to the point; Jon Arryn had done exactly that.

No one had asked for his opinion. He was just expected to break his oath's to the Royal House and swear his new king fealty. Truthfully, he could hardly imagine Westeros under the rule of anyone except the Dragon King's. After all, say what you will about some of them, but the prosperity they brought the realm as a united continent far outweighed the negative aspect's brought on by the occasionally insane monarch. In his opinion at least.

However, again; no one asked for his opinion. It had merely been _expected_ of him; just as so very many other things in his life had been.  
Just as accepting the tale that his little sister must have... _somehow_...been kidnapped and raped by the Crown Prince of all people was expected of him.

He knew it was wrong of him, but whenever he heard that most ridiculous of claim's, it was all he could do to suppress his laughter. The likelihood of _Lyanna_ _Stark_ of all people being _'kidnapped'_ and _'raped'_ was too far-fetched to even contemplate.

He sometimes couldn't help but wonder if they were actually speaking of the same person. She, who could wield a lance better than virtually any knight alive; she, who was half a horse in the saddle and finest rider in all of the North bar none; she, who wielded a blade better than any other nobleman twice her size and age; she, who was _never_ without at least _two_ dagger's on her person _at all times...even in her sleep_?

How anyone could convince themselves that she could have been kidnapped without there being a very great many sign's of a massive struggle nor a great deal of blood found, he knew not. Like he'd long thought, the very idea was laughable.

However, it was _'expected'_ of him, so he went along with it.

To Eddard Stark however, all any of that proved was that Robert Baratheon simply had _absolutely_ no idea whom his little sister really was... _at all_!

He had long since been forced to accept the fact that Lyanna and Benjen's judgment of his friend's character was spot on. If Lyanna was actually...somehow...still forced to marry the Stormlord, Ned had very little doubt that Robert would not manage to survive the wedding night. In truth, the girl his friend saw as Ned's sister was nothing but a mirage of wishful thinking and self-delusion. The girl Robert was in love with simply _did not exist_ , and Ned knew that for an absolute fact.

He partially blamed himself for this entire mess.

Oh, he knew it was not his fault that the Mad King had cooked his father in his armor whilst forcing his elder brother to strangle himself to death in a vain attempt to reach his sword and save their father whilst tied to some Tyroshi torture device. No, that was all on Aerys. Nor was it his fault that his little sister was as willful and stubborn as a mule on her best day. She was the only daughter of Winterfell and the first lady of the North for far too long for her to have been anything other than both imperious and well-used to getting her own way.

What _was_ his fault was that it was he who even suggested the betrothal to his father in the first place.

Admittedly, it had been at the urging's of his foster-father and mentor, Jon Arryn- Lord of the Mountain and the Vale and Warden of the East. Ned sometimes wondered if he had not allowed himself to be too influenced by the Falcon Lord.

He knew the Stark's were honorable ruler's, but he also knew they did not manage to hold and rule such a hard people as the men of the North for well over _eight thousand years_ by honor alone.

He was a Stark of Winterfell. He well knew the true history of his house despite the fact he had lived at the Eyrie longer than he had Winterfell itself. He well knew that if one threatened the Wolf-Pack of Winterfell, they could make the Flaying Bolton's of old look like rank amateur's in comparison to the cruelty they were capable of unleashing if they so chose. The proof of that could still be found in the _total extinction_ of such houses as the Greystark's, whom were now nothing more than cautionary tale's whispered about to frighten children into behaving or eating their vegetables- and they had been kin!

Furthermore, in none of them had those particular trait's been more manifest than in the wolf's-blooded Brandon and Lyanna themselves.

Ned had been so impressed by Jon Arryn's code of honor as well as his vision for the future of Westeros, that a part of him had forgotten what it meant to be a Stark of Winterfell. He now knew that, and accepted that fact. Ned had thought himself nearly closer to Robert Baratheon than he was to his own brother's. That, he now knew, had been a mistake. When Lord Jon had brought to Ned the suggestion of tying Houses Stark and Baratheon together through a union of Robert and Lyanna (and thereby cementing the cornerstone of Jon Arryn's vision), Ned had thought it an excellent idea and had immediately brought it to his father's notice. He knew of his father's southron ambition's. Indeed, he played on that very fact in order to bring Robert into the family as a true brother, as well as to make his mentor proud of him.

That was when he forgot what it meant to be a Stark.

 _'When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies but the pack survives.'_

He had been in the south so long that the very idea that Lyanna might object did not even cross his mind so lost had he been in the haze of trying to please his mentor, best friend, and his father all at the same time. Lyanna had seen right through Robert Baratheon from the very beginning. When she all but begged him to speak with their father about cancelling the betrothal, Ned should have heeded his sister's plea. The longer the rebellion raged on, the more Ned had begun to see his friend for who and for _what_ he truly was. Ned shuddered to think of the future of Westeros with him on the throne. Ned had a distinct feeling he would make Aegon the Unworthy look like a paragon of virtue in comparison. He had also been horrified to realize that Robert assuredly suffered from his own form of madness. His hatred of his own grandmother's family was neither normal nor healthy. If he had his way, Ned knew he would have every last person with even a drop of Targaryen blood (excepting himself of course...and maybe Renly) killed in the most brutal fashion possible. It was hypocrisy in it's worst form. Without his own Dragon blood, Robert would have been nothing. House Baratheon would not even exist if their founder had not been the bastard brother of Aegon the Dragon, nor would Robert have been crowned as anything other than the 'King of Whores' had his own grandmother not been the Princess Rhaelle Targaryen; making him the great-grandson of King Aegon V.

He now remembered the truth: the survival of the pack was the only thing that mattered.

Brandon had sealed his own fate when he blindly rushed off to the capitol.

To this day, Ned did not understand that. He knew that of the four of them, Brandon and Lyanna were the one's with the most _'wolf-blood'_. However, Brandon knew their sister even better than Ned did. He should have known that whatever he heard had been an exaggeration _at_ _best_ , and a malicious lie for some nefarious purpose at worst. Someone Brandon would have had reason to trust could have been the only one to tell him such a tall tale and he take it as seriously as he did. That had never made any sense to Ned.

He also knew that his father was _far_ more cunning than Ned could ever hope to be. The only reason he would have ever deigned to answer Aerys' summons to the capitol in the first place, as well as to not have managed to talk and/or threaten his way out of that mess with events devolving to the point he had to call for a trial by combat in an attempt to save Brandon's life, was if he had not only _actually_ committed treason, but _knew_ Aerys had somehow gotten proof of that fact.

The question remained; what had his father been up to?

Ned desperately wanted answer's to that and many more question's, but he was beginning to think he would never be able to get the answer's he so desired.

Ned was abruptly brought out of his dangerous thought's when he felt Howland touch his arm to bring him back to the present.

"What in the Seven Hell's do you make of that, Ned?" Howland asked; pointing towards the Prince of Dragonstone's funeral pyre.

Ned had to blink his eye's in apparent shock as he focused his gaze on the pyre. The flame's had not only risen to an enormous height, but had somehow turned into flame's of a bright white and violet coloring. Ned had never seen the like of it.

"I have no idea." Ned muttered.

The heat from the flames was intense, and had forced them to take several steps backwards. Suddenly, the flames leapt to an even greater height and intensity before they seemed to collapse in on themselves. It appeared as if the conflagration had sucked all the flames into one central focal point, and then they simply...vanished.

Wide-eyed and leery, Ned and Howland slowly crept closer to where the pyre had stood. Ned and Howland held their torches in front of them to get a better view of whatever had occurred. When they had gotten a few feet closer, Ned actually dropped his torch in shock at what he saw. Somehow, Howland remained steady. Ned attempted to banish his shock as they returned to the sight of the former pyre.

Ned had trouble believing what his own eye's were telling him. He had good reason to doubt.

Laying on the ground where the wooden pyre once stood, a bleary-eyed and groaning Rhaegar Targaryen was attempting to sit up in his dangerously hot and heavy ruby-studded armor.

'This should have been in no way possible!' Was the only thought running through Ned Stark's mind.

Soon enough, Ned resigned himself to the fact that he just did not have any sort of plausible explanation for something as insane as he was witnessing.

An idle thought was running rampant through his mind.

'Why, oh _why_...did all of these crazy happenings keep surrounding him?' He wondered.

He was a good person was he not?

All he wished for was an uncomplicated and simple life. He could feel such idealistic and wishful thought's vanishing through the wind just like the ashes of what was supposed to have been Rhaegar's funeral pyre.

'Oh, well. The Stark's endure...right?' He thought to himself.

Regardless, he resigned himself to the fact that more craziness would undoubtedly follow.

He also realized that this might be his only opportunity to receive the answer's that had been plaguing his mind since the beginning of this wretched rebellion.  
He looked at the...somehow...revived Prince of Dragonstone carefully. While his skin appeared to be blackened by soot from the fire, he did not appear to have suffered any ill-effect's from the burning. If anything, Ned thought the fire had to have again... _somehow_...healed him due to the fact the it appeared as if his chest was no longer the ruin Robert Baratheon had left it as. It also appeared as if all of his hair had been singed off by the flames, though something of his eyebrow's remained intact oddly enough. In truth, without his long silver hair, the Prince was barely recognizable.

The Prince was blinking up at them in apparent confusion.

Well, at least Ned wasn't the only one stupefied by this...oddity.

He saw Howland glance around at their surrounding's and quickly realized why. Although they had built the Prince's funeral pyre well away from any of their men, they were not that far off. It would not be difficult for someone to stumble upon them. If Ned wished to get his answer's, he'd need to hide the Prince better.

"Lord Eddard?" Prince Rhaegar asked confusedly.

Howland looked to Ned for direction as to what their action's should be. He knew Howland had the same suspicions and questions as Ned himself. He was the only one Ned had dared to share his concern's with.

"I need answer's, Howland. I need to know what really caused the death's of my father and brother, and I need to know what truly went on with Lyanna." Ned said quietly to the man Ned would name as his true best friend in action and deed.

"I would be glad to finally know the truth of the matter myself." Howland told him in his quiet but calm way; nodding his head in a decisive manner.

That was one of the many reason's Ned found more enjoyment with his friendship with Howland than he ever had with someone like the boisterous Baratheon Stormlord.

"Where...?" Howland trailed off indicating where he thought they should take the Prince.

Ned looked around the surrounding environment. It would not bode well for anyone to find them as they were. The wood's nearby would be the safest place he reckoned. It was even further away from their men.

"Those woods over there. We cannot risk anyone coming upon the Prince." Ned said as he pointed out where he was speaking of.

"Howland, help me bring the Prince." Ned asked.

Howland nodded and they both moved to help Rhaegar to stand before Howland quickly held up his arm for Ned to halt.

"Be careful of his armor, Ned. It's still very hot." Howland cautioned.

Howland pulled out a shirt from his pack and ripped it in two; handing Ned half of the material while he wrapped his own half around the Prince's armored arm. Ned followed his example, and together they quickly lifted the clearly still confused Prince of Dragonstone to his feet. As the cooler night air breezed around them with the scent of evergreen thick in the air, Ned thought it looked as if Rhaegar was coming back to himself as they slowly approached the forest. They tried to be as quiet as possible, and had gone a good ways into the woods before they decided to stop. Ned figured this was as good a place as any. It was not so close to the clearing that a wandering soldier would stumble upon them by accident, nor was it so far in they'd have too much difficulty locating the spot once more.

By then, Rhaegar seemed to be fully cognizant of his surroundings.

Ned noticed the Prince had a melancholic and resigned air about himself. He soon understood why.

"So, this is where I'm to die." Rhaegar stated as if it were a foregone conclusion.

Ned looked at the man oddly for a moment. While his resignation to his supposed fate was...odd, he did not give off the impression of a madman, and his demeanor certainly did not scream 'rapist' to him

"That is entirely up to you, My Prince." Ned informed him calmly.

"How so?" Rhaegar inquired curiously; yet still in his usual polite manner.

"I suppose it all depends on whether you choose to answer the questions I must needs have answers for honestly or not." Ned told him.

The Prince seemed surprised by that statement.

"I shall endeavor to answer any question you may have of me to the best of my ability Lord Stark." Prince Rhaegar volunteered without a hint of dishonesty or deceit heard in his strong and clear voice.

"I have no reason to concoct any fable's." He added; again in his calm completely unfazed manner.

Ned had to blink at that. Howland appeared no better off in that regard than Ned and was eyeing the Prince with open curiosity.  
If he was lying to them, than he was the best mummer Ned had ever seen.

Ned motioned with his hand for Howland to sit down, and Ned joined him on the ground facing Prince Rhaegar.

"Well, I suppose my first question would be; did you or did you not abduct my sister, Lyanna?" Ned asked.

His long-held suspicion's were confirmed by the Prince's immediate reply.

"No, Lord Eddard. I did not abduct your sister. She actually came to me at the pre-arranged meeting place. Honestly, I've never understood how anybody that actually _knew_ Lyanna... _at all_...could have possibly believed she'd allow herself to _be_ 'abducted'. It often made me wonder if they were even speaking of the same person. It certainly never did sound like the Lyanna _I_ knew. " Rhaegar informed him.

For the first time that evening, Ned saw the ghost of a smile on the Silver Prince's face as he spoke of his sister. Ned could easily see that he was speaking to a man that was simply in love...and he was in love with Ned's little sister.

Ned was not certain what he felt about that.

Another idle thought that went through Ned's mind was that perhaps the Prince was some type of masochist. He surely had to be for allowing himself to fall for the little hellion he called little sister.

"Those have long been mine own thought's on the subject as well." Ned confirmed.

"Why would my brother Brandon have though that she'd been kidnapped by you then, if- as you say, she went to you willingly?" Ned asked.

God's, how he'd long wondered that very thing.

Still, Rhaegar answered, though Ned noted that the Prince's voice held a hint of both exasperation and suspicion when he spoke about Brandon.

"I swear to you on the Old God's and the New, that the question of _why_ Lord Brandon believed I'd kidnapped your sister is one that has long haunted both myself and Lyanna from the moment we learned of his fate. I have suspicion's, but I have no proof of anything. She was very close to Brandon. It was the opinion of both Lyanna and myself that someone that Lord Brandon trusted implicitly _must_ have convinced him of such a thing...and that was what led to all of this. Nothing else made any type of sense to either of us." Rhaegar replied.

He seemed just as frustrated as Ned was regarding the matter. He said he had suspicion's though, and Ned was determined to discover them because he had less than zero suspect's. If someone had deliberately set this whole mess up...? Ned refused to think that thought through. How anybody could have done such a thing...but Ned had to know.

He _must_ know.

"You said you had suspicion's? Who and why? Who could have possibly done such a thing and for what reason?" Ned demanded.

Rhaegar looked at Ned wearily.

"I do not believe you're going to like my thought's on the matter, Lord Stark." Rhaegar replied quietly.

"I don't care. I _must_ know." Ned said resolutely despite the small bit of foreboding that was beginning to set in.

Rhaegar stared at him with his piercing deep amethyst eye's before replying.

"Were you aware that your brother Brandon was married just before he was killed?" The Prince stunned him by asking.

Ned actually choked at hearing that.

'Brandon...married? The Wild-Wolf himself? Preposterous! Besides, he was betrothed.' Ned thought to himself as his mind whirled.

He'd heard rumor's that Barbrey Ryswell...now Dustin, had set her eye's on the eldest Stark brother, but...surely not.

Father would have never accepted such a thing.

The truth left him stunned.

"Brandon couldn't have been married. Besides, he was betrothed." Ned interjected.

He should know. He'd had to marry his brother's former betrothed. Not that he could say he really knew her. He met her on their wedding day after all, and only spent barely a week with her.

"Yes, he had been betrothed. Sometimes our parent's think to dictate our lives to us without any regard for their children's wishes. If you're lucky, the stranger you're forced to wed can become a friend and help-meet. I was lucky with Elia in that regard. Though oftentimes things are much worse than that. I shudder to think what marriage to someone like Cersei Lannister might have been like. Your father was an intelligent and ambitious man. He too made the mistake of dictating his children's futures without any input from his son nor his daughter. However, he realized his error before it was too late. At least...it was supposed to have been resolved." Rhaegar explained with a hint of sorrow at the end.

Ned had suspicion's himself now, yet he had no idea what the Prince was referring to about his father and realizing any kind of mistake's.

The Rickard Stark _he_ knew simply did not make mistakes.

"I have no idea what you are talking about. What did my father do that I am unawares of?" Ned asked, very much needing to hear the truth.

"Alright, Lord Stark. I shall explain it to you. Hopefully this should clear many things up for you. To begin with, while Elia and I are perhaps each other's best friends and partners; we have never loved one another as a husband and wife ought to. We just never clicked in that way; despite the both of us trying. Like I already said, things could have been much worse though for the both of us; we at least came to care a great deal about one another and try our best to help each other. Also, Elia has never had the strongest of constitution's. She's been partially bed-ridden off and on all of her life- something her ambitious mother kept closely to her chest. Regardless, after the birth of our daughter Rhaenys, the maester on Dragonstone informed us (and we later got confirmation's from second and third opinion's) that she could never safely bear another child; at least not without certain death befalling her. Not only that, we were told that even if she did risk death with another pregnancy, she would never be able to carry another child to term anyway. This was a blow for all of us, but most importantly, it was something that we had to keep quiet at any cost. If my father ever got wind of such news, Elia would have had a fatal accident or something of the like very quickly." Rhaegar explained tiredly.

Ned and Howland both were shocked at that.

"But...Prince Aegon...?" Ned trailed off unsure what to say.

"Is the bastard brother of Monford Velaryon. Lord Lucerys Velaryon had a set of baseborn twins that bore the traditional look of Old Valyria. He allowed us to use one of them to pretend to be our child until my father had been...dealt with. In thanks, we would later legitimize the twins. We were lucky to find them in the first place as Valyrian-looking newborns are not exactly common here in Westeros. The maester on Dragonstone, myself, and my mother Queen Rhaella helped Elia to fake a pregnancy. She's known not to be able to tolerate Pycelle anyway, so it never looked odd that she refused to be touched by the old lecher." Rhaegar added to their astonishment.

Prince Aegon did not exist! Well, you learn something new every day Ned supposed.

"Of course that still left us in a conundrum. Females cannot inherit the Iron Throne. As I can already see a little too much of my father in my little brother Prince Viserys, that left a rather pertinent problem. I had no heir. Also, if I was to gather the support necessary to overthrow my father (and yes, I'm perfectly well aware he's completely mad which is why he must be removed from the throne), then I needed an heir for any of the Great Houses to support me. Elia and I, along with my mother, all agreed that the only plausible solution was for me to find a second wife. It had not been done in my family in a long time, but there were no laws actually against it. Also, these were extenuating circumstances even if there had been any. However, we had no idea where to look. Then, I found all I ever needed and never knew I wanted where and when I least expected to." Rhaegar said with a fond chuckle as he thought over his initial meeting with Lyanna.

Ned could now see perfectly well where this was headed. Things were beginning to make much more sense.

"Harrenhal." Ned stated more than asked.

"Harrenhal indeed." Rhaegar agreed definitively.

"You found her, didn't you, My Prince? The Knight of the Laughing Tree?" Howland asked.

 _'Her_?' Ned thought.

'What the...Of course. Lyanna!' Ned concluded.

"Oh yes, I certainly did. You can imagine my shock when I discovered the Knight of the Laughing Tree was no knight at all, but the only daughter of Winterfell; the Lady Lyanna Stark!" Rhaegar replied with a deep chuckle of loving remembrance.

Ned slowly closed his eye's. Things were becoming much more clear, and he was beginning to think the entire rebellion was for no real reason whatsoever...well, except for Robert's jealousy and obsession with his sister.

"She's unlike anyone I've ever met. She challenge's me like no one ever has. I've never met any nobly-born young lady with half so much fire and passion as Lya. From the second I met her, I knew there would never be anyone else I could love half so much as what I feel for her. I love your sister with all my heart, Lord Eddard. It did not take long, and by some miracle, she returned my love." Rhaegar told him.

Here Ned could actually see a spark of the fire that resided within the seemingly icy Dragon Prince. He almost had to respect that he was not in fact asking for Ned's permission, he was simply telling Ned how things were. A simple fact. He loved Ned's sister, and she loved him; that's just the way it was.

"You must know that Lya absolutely despised my cousin Robert. Frankly, I pity any woman unlucky enough to be forced to marry him. He'd make a terrible husband. If you are as close to Cousin Robert as they say, you should know this well for yourself." Rhaegar said.

Ned could not deny that, as much as his boyish self from the Vale may have wished to defend his childhood friend; he could not. Rhaegar was simply stating a truth, and he was right.

"I know." Was all Ned could reply.

Rhaegar nodded his bald head.

"We wished to do things correctly of course. Lyanna was aware that there could be nothing to question when we had children. Their legitimacy could never be up for debate. Neither of us wished for any problem's like that. Therefore, we went together to your father, Lord Rickard to discuss the matter and beg his permission and support." Rhaegar began again.

"Lord Rickard was shocked, naturally. I believe it was also the first time he had truly realized just how much his only daughter loathed Robert Baratheon. We explained everything to Lord Stark, and he let us stew for a bit while he debated with himself. I believe that the knowledge that it will be _his_ grandson that one day _will_ sit the Iron Throne was what finally persuaded him. He agreed to cancel her betrothal to my cousin, which would give Robert no viable cause for grievance, and gave us his blessing. We met back up several weeks later. We had a small wedding under the blessing's of the Old God's on the Isle of Faces, and another ceremony according to the Seven in the sept at Dragonstone performed by the High Septon himself. My mother even attended that wedding. When my father murdered your father and brother and the rebellion began, Elia gave us the use of a Martell property in the Red Mountains of Dorne to hide Lyanna away until it was all over. She was pregnant by then, and we did not wish for anything to harm her or the baby. She'll be due quite soon, I expect." The Prince explained softly; his entire countenance shining with pride and absolute devotion when speaking of Lyanna and the baby.

And Ned had thought he could not be any further astonished!

How wrong he was.

It was truly all for nothing. All the death's were for naught. Ned now knew he should have listened to his own instinct's, and insisted matter's be further investigated...something! Of course he knew the Mad King had to go. He certainly deserved it, but how much easier would everything have been if he had known that the Crown Prince was now his good-brother and not in fact as mad as his father. Not only that, he was soon to be the father of his own new niece or nephew! The man was Lyanna's own husband! They could have had so much more unity.

Now, Robert was king. Now, they've torn the realm apart, and Ned's not certain whether or not it will ever be healed again. He knew for an absolute fact it would never happen under Robert's rule at least.

Then he remembered something. That still did not explain Brandon.

Ned let out a sigh.

"I understand all that Your Grace. I have no reason to doubt your word as all of this actually makes far more sense to me than anything else I've heard, especially the ludicrous assumption of Lyanna being held against her will, but none of this explains Brandon." Ned pointed out.

Rhaegar nodded his head.

"Lyanna and I only learned of this well after the fact. Brandon Stark had secretly married the Lady Ashara Dayne not too long after the Tourney of Harrenhal." Rhaegar informed him.

Ned's eye's widened exponentially at that.

"He did not wish to marry the Lady Catelyn. Lyanna told me he'd already confided to her that he was afraid they'd be very poorly matched. I'm sure you are already aware, but he and Ashara had a dalliance at the Tourney. He got her with child. However, Ashara was not just some serving girl. Her uncle had been the late Prince Consort of Dorne, and her own mother was a Martell Princess herself; not to mention the Dayne's are an extremely ancient house with numerous ties to mine own house even. I believe they loved one another as well. Your brother did the honorable thing when he was told the news, and they married. The last time I saw her, she was just about nearing her time to give birth. I believe he was at Riverrun when someone told him I'd 'kidnapped' his sister. I don't know who it was. I think he was there to notify them that the betrothal was broken, but I don't believe he ever got the chance to actually inform the Tully's." Rhaegar finished.

Ned's mind was whirling with thought's. He knew not what to think. He had a sinking suspicion, and he prayed it was not true.

"You think Lord Hoster already knew, and he likely knew what Brandon had arrived for." Ned interjected perceptively.

Rhaegar's solemn nod was the only answer he gave...but it was enough.

It went unsaid that Rhaegar believed the Tully's had something to do with Brandon thinking Lyanna kidnapped as some sort of sick revenge and plot against House Stark. Honestly, it would not overly surprise Ned. Lord Hoster Tully was a cold man in Ned's opinion, and too grasping by far. He held little honor either, despite the words of his house. He had no reason to rebel against the throne, yet he did just that in order to get his daughter's married off as highly as possible. His thought's and suspicion's were sickening him in a way that nothing else ever had.

Ned felt Howland place a supportive hand on his shoulder.

"We _will_ discover the truth of the matter, Ned- one way or another. I swear I'll help you in any way I am able." Howland swore.

He had a true friend in the Crannog Lord.

Ned nodded his head in agreement.

"Thank you for explaining everything, Your Grace. I now see things much clearer." Ned told the Prince.

"You are my wife's brother. Please, call me Rhaegar. Besides, I have a feeling it will be quite some time before I'm ever able to regain my title's." Rhaegar said.  
Ned paused a moment.

"Then call me, Ned. You are my good-brother now as well. Oh, and this man is my good friend Lord Howland Reed of Greywater Watch." Ned replied.

"Lord Reed, a pleasure. Lyanna speaks very highly of you and count's you as a dear friend. Also, I suppose I should thank you for allowing me a proper funeral pyre, as I suspect that is the only reason I am alive at all. I am most grateful." Rhaegar told them.

"The fire brought you back to life?" Ned asked questioningly.

'Whilst it sounded insane, there was no doubting that he was certainly alive, so who knew?' Ned thought.

"If I had to guess, I would wager that I had somehow clung to life after Cousin Robert defeated me. I've heard legend's about such things happening to the more ancient member's of my family, but I had never believed them to be true. The legends of old tell us that in special circumstances, and if it is the will of the god's, the Blood of the Dragon can be restored to health and purified by the flame's; even if one is on the brink of death. That is the only explanation I have for what occurred." Rhaegar calmly explained to them.

Well, that was as good an explanation for such a... _warm_...revival as any, Ned supposed.

Again, Ned let out a deep sigh as he worried on what to do. He had already become jaded by the war. Learning what he now has made it seem like even more of a farce. Still, there was work to do. Rhaegar's army had been defeated. Robert was calling himself a king. He'd been ordered to go take the capital in the name of 'King Robert Baratheon'. He saw little else he could do at the moment. He wasn't about to turn on his newfound kin, but he couldn't defeat Robert's armies on his own; especially with as few allies as the Royalists had remaining. Perhaps if the Tyrell's had bothered to mount a real offensive things would be different, but they weren't. Mace Tyrell was merely sitting in front of Storm's End throwing feast's and tourney's in a vain...and half-hearted...attempt to starve out Stannis Baratheon. The Dornish forces were exhausted. There were loyalist's in the Riverlands, but they were already being hunted down. He certainly could not trust the Tully's, and it was Jon Arryn himself who started calling Robert 'the king'. He also did not trust the Lannister's as far as he could throw them. The only thing he could think of for the moment was for them to go in to exile and attempt to build up some outside forces while he tried to drum up some allies after they've had time to properly recuperate and strengthen his people. His own forces desperately needed time. He would however do all in his power in the time's to come to correct the mistakes they'd all made. He prayed that the Westeros could manage to survive under Robert for at least a few years.

"Rhaegar, I have been ordered to go and take Kings Landing in Robert's name before the Lannister's (whom I do not trust), have a chance to get there. You have been saved for a reason, I believe. I will not allow anyone to harm you if I can help it. It would be better for the wider world to believe you dead for the nonce. My troops are exhausted. They will need time, and I also cannot trust my allies. Certainly not with the truth of event's. For the moment, Robert has won. I know he will make a terrible king however, and I also know that the realm will never heal under Baratheon rule. You should take your family and go into exile for the time being. I know it is a bitter pill to swallow, but needs must, and it's better than the alternative. Hide. Bide your time. Robert will never make a popular king. Stay hidden, and build some outside allies. When the time is right, I will support you and my sister and your children. I will work towards that eventuality. Give your own allies time to properly recover and regroup. Perhaps the Tyrell's may actually be useful for something besides feasting the next time. For now, I believe that would be the best and only real option." Ned told him sorrowfully.

He lamented the fact that any of this was even necessary and that things had been allowed to reach this point at all. Alas, there was nothing for it.

Rhaegar looked both surprised and relieved.

"Thank you, Good-Brother. I admit I am surprised, but pleasantly so. Your word's also speak sense and I shall endeavor to heed them. I also thank you in advance for agreeing to help my family reclaim our throne when time comes. That was far more than I had ever dared to hope for." Rhaegar said with heart-felt gratitude in his words.

"Is Lyanna still in Dorne?" Ned asked.

"No. By now, or rather especially when word of my 'defeat' filters out, she will have been brought to Dragonstone where my mother and younger brother are presently residing for greater protection. I left her under the protection of Lord Commander Hightower, Ser Oswell Whent, and my best friend, Ser Arthur Dayne of the Kingsguard. I would imagine Ser Arthur likely to have brought the Lady Ashara along with them as I already granted him leave to do so." Rhaegar told him instantly.

Ned felt relieved to know his little sister was being so well protected by such legendary and honorable knight's as those named.

"Alright, Howland I'm afraid I must ask much of you." Ned said.

"If it is remotely in my power to do, it shall be done Lord Stark." Howland was quick to answer his liege.

"Thank you, My Friend. I must ask you to help the Crown Prince make for Dragonstone in secret. I will give you the parchment needed to use one of Lord Manderly's ships. Staff it with your own loyal men. If you are able, try and get to Ser Barristan Selmy. He was injured, but I believe if he knew the Prince still lived he would desire to remain by his side, and he and my sister are going to need the best protection they can get. Robert is unworthy of such a knight. Do you think you can manage that inconspicuously?" Ned asked; knowing he was asking a great deal from his friend, but it had to be done if they were to have any chance.

Howland thought it all out in his mind momentarily before responding.

"I would be honored to bring Lady Lya's husband to her. Have faith, Ned. I'll make certain to get the Prince and Ser Barristan to Dragonstone no matter what." Howland replied seriously.

Ned blew out a large sigh of relief.

"Thank you, Howland. I am in your debt." He told his friend.

"There is no debt, Ned. Lady Lya saw to my protection when I needed help. I am merely returning the favor." Howland told him with a grin.

Ned could have almost laughed at that. It was funny now that he knew just how his little sister had avenged Howland's honor at Harrenhal after rescuing him from those squires. He smiled in remembrance and felt the love he held for his only sister stronger than ever. He was so glad to learn that she had at least _tried_ to do the responsible thing when she decided to wed the Prince and had gone to their father for permission. It was not her fault that Father neglected to inform Brandon and that someone betrayed their eldest brother.

He turned back to Rhaegar.

"If I arrive at the capitol first, I swear to you I will do my best to hide and protect the Princess Elia and Princess Rhaenys and get them both to Dragonstone safely." Ned promised.

This time it was Rhaegar's turn to feel a massive relief. Their situation had been constantly plaguing him because of his father's madness.

"Thank you, Ned. Thank you very much. That means a great deal to me." Rhaegar told him.

"Your father on the other hand..." Ned trailed off; his thought's on just exactly what he'd like to do to Aerys were many and violent.

"My father died the day he rode to treat with Lord Darklyn at Duskendale; perhaps even before then. The loving father I knew as a child died a long time ago. Anything that happens to Aerys now is merely putting a mad animal out of its misery." Rhaegar interjected in a calm, slightly detached manner; much to Ned's surprise.

Ned merely nodded. There was really no other response to a statement such as that.

"Then it is decided." Howland said.

"Indeed." Both Ned and Rhaegar agreed.

"You should probably return before anyone comes looking for you, Ned. I'll return with supplies for the Prince. You need some rest." Howland supplied helpfully.

"Thank you, Howland." Ned replied before turning back to Rhaegar and extending his hand- a symbolic gesture with much understood meaning.

"Until we meet again, Your Grace. I hope to see you soon, and be safe." Ned told the Prince.

"Thank you, and safe travels to you as well, Lord Stark." Rhaegar replied solemnly while firmly shaking Ned's hand.

They nodded at one another and parted as kin as Ned returned to his tent. His mind was still a whirl, and he dearly wished for sleep. In so little time, everything had changed, and he had a feeling nothing would ever be the same again.

He had no idea just how right he was.

By the god's was Ned tired. He, and his army of loyal Northmen had marched long and hard to make for the capital. He did not think he and his men had ever marched as fast as they had these past days. It had been utterly exhausting; setting such a grueling pace, but it had to be done. They had been rushing as fast as they had in order to beat the other army Ned knew to be marching for the capital; a Lannister host led by Lord Tywin Lannister himself.

He had shuddered to think of the _'Rain's of_ _Castamere'_ being played over Kings Landing.

Ned had been supremely uneasy about the Lannister's motives. Ned, nor anyone else, had failed to notice that Lion of Casterly Rock had only bestirred itself when it appeared the fortunes of the Royal Family had taken a turn for the worse. Most were convinced that it had been Prince Rhaegar's defeat at the Trident that had spurred the Lion's from their rock. Ned was of a different mind. According to their sources, that was simply not possible. There was no way the Lannister host could have gathered and departed from the Rock and Lannisport _only_ when news of Rhaegar's defeat had arrived. There was simply not enough time. No, Ned was of the firm opinion that Tywin Lannister had long ago decided to help slay the Dragon's. Only Tywin had not wished to risk himself while their was still a chance of a Targaryen victory.

The sight's before Ned were only confirming everything he had long suspected of the Lannister's. Smoke rose from various parts of Kings Landing as Ned heard the cries and screams of victim's all around the great capital city. He felt bile rise in his throat at the actions...or rather the _atrocities_ (he supposed was a better word) of the Lannister host. From what he had gathered, Tywin had arrived not long before him, and... _somehow_...had managed to convince the Mad King to open the gates. That had been his undoing. The second the gates had opened, the Lannister's had wasted no time. They had sacked the city. Men, women, and children lay dead upon the street's. Thousand's of poor souls had been raped and brutalized. Ned had never seen anything of the like. One would have thought it to have been sacked by a people like the Ironborn or maybe the Dothraki; not the supposedly civilized Golden Lion's of Casterly Rock.

Ned spurred his mount as hard as he dared to get through the masses of people. He was doing his best to reach Maegor's Holdfast as quickly as possible in the hope's that the Princess's Elia and Rhaenys were still safe. He had given his word to try his best, and he would see it done. As they approached further and further towards the Red Keep, ascending to the higher ground, Ned saw from the peaks of Aegon's Hill the truly massive amounts of destruction the Lion's had wrought.  
He had a feeling that these acts would not have the effects he was sure Lord Tywin desired. He knew the Old Lion had likely done this as a way to ingratiate himself within the newly forming regime. It was something Robert would undoubtedly approve of; Ned knew. It was also likely meant as a message of the fate that awaited the enemies of the Lion's just as surely as _'The Rain's of Castamere'_. Ned was certain the message was both sent and received.

However, as he carefully observed the faces of the residents of Kings Landing, he also believed Lord Tywin to have made a grave miscalculation in judgment. While much of the populace looked properly terrified, and rightly so; Ned did not fail to recognize another quite different look hidden behind the fear- a look of abject hatred and utter loathing. It was all being directed towards any Lannister man in sight, and for good reason too; in Ned's humble opinion. Tywin seemed to have forgotten something in his mad rush to make his 'contribution' to the rebel 'cause'. The simple fact of the matter was that the citizen's of Kings Landing had, on the whole, lived in peace and a good deal of prosperity ever since the ending of the Dance. For over a century and a half, they had never had any cause to fear for their safety or their lives; now- they had cause for both. Another thing Tywin forgot was that while the Mad King was unpopular, that unpopularity did not extend to the rest of House Targaryen. Even Aerys' madness had not really had much of an effect on their lives. The Dragon's had always taken especial pride of place in their capital city. To the extent that while places such as Flea Bottom were undoubtedly the poorest section's of the capital, they were still much better off than a great many other peasant's in the rest of the continent. They had enjoyed peace, wealth, and general prosperity for generation's; and that would _not_ be forgotten overnight. Who brought them such prosperity would not be forgotten either. Nor would those who had ended it.

Still mounted when he arrived at the Red Keep; if Ned had been disgusted by the sacking of the city, it was nothing compared to the disgust he found upon arrival. There was Jaime Lannister seated upon the Iron Throne with a bloodied golden sword laid across his lap; the white of his Kingsguard uniform stained crimson. Upon the ground at the base of his own throne lay King Aerys II. He was laying face down upon the floor with what was undoubtedly a stab wound to the back. It did not take a genius to ascertain what had happened.

Ned tuned out the various Lannister red-cloak's that milled about, just as he did his own men at that moment.

"Ah, Lord Stark. Wonderful to see you again! As you can see, your father and brother have been avenged. I'm just keeping this warm for your friend, Robert." Ser Jaime said almost jovially.

Ned again glanced down to the form of the murdered king.

He felt cheated.

Aerys had been _his_ to kill; _his_ to wreak his vengeance upon.

And Jaime Lannister had robbed him of that.

Ned's eyes narrowed almost to slits, he was so angry.

"Kingslayer." Ned said in disgust.

He was rewarded with the slight flinch from the golden knight.

To profane his blade and vow's to murder the man he was sworn to protect...Ned was not disgusted by the act itself; the god's alone knew how desperately he had wished to do the exact same thing. There was a difference between them though. Ned had sworn no oath's to protect the madman. He had never sworn his entire life to the lunatic's service. The Lannister in front of him however, most assuredly _had_.

Regardless, he had more pressing concern's than a dead lunatic and an arrogant brat masquerading as a knight.

"Where are the Princess's Elia and Rhaenys?" Ned addressed the boy.

Though Jaime Lannister was only a couple of name days younger than he, Ned felt far older at the moment.

Apparently, his question seemed to have an effect on the boy. His eye's widened as a look of panic graced his fine feature's.

"They were in the Holdfast on the third floor." He heard Jaime say- more to himself than to Ned.

The young knight quickly sheathed his blade before bolting from the room.

Ned, still horseback, followed him with a frown.

He followed him out of the Throne Room and through several antechambers and down a long hallway. Ned motioned for one of his men to take his mount while he ascended the stairs to the third level. He was sure by the looks of the rooms around him that he was within the royal apartments. The rooms were too splendid to be anything else. He opened several doors to see ransacked rooms, but he did not see anyone within them. He was getting a very bad feeling deep in his gut.

He came upon the last door in the hallway that was wide open and partially off its hinges. The horror that met him inside would haunt Ned for the rest of his life.

The first thing he spied was the form of a small babe with its head smashed beyond all recognition. The bits of brain and fair hair named the child as 'Prince Aegon'.

Approximately six feet away, the sight that met his eye's actually caused his stomach to rebel as he lost the contents of the meager breakfast he had partaken of that morning before they finished their march. It was more of a dry heaving than anything. Fury and disgust welled within the Lord of the North greater than any he'd ever experienced.  
Laying upon the marble floor with her young body still partially concealed underneath her father's bed lay who must be the Princess Rhaenys Targaryen. Long dark hair was splayed across her back as well as partly hiding her face. It was coated with blood. Everything was coated with blood. The little girl of no more than three name day's had been stabbed innumerable times. Ned could not count the number of stab wounds except to say that they must have numbered at least half a hundred.

If he had thought the condition of Rhaegar's daughter was awful, it was nothing to the state her mother's body had been left in. Ned could easily tell that the Princess Elia had been violated in the worst of ways. Her gown had been ripped along with her small clothes. Her corpse looked as if someone had taken a very large greatsword and split the Dornish Princess near in half. No words could describe the horror he felt at seeing such a sight. It was only too easy for Ned to imagine his sister and her child being similarly murdered if anyone were allowed to find them.

Ned would do all in his power to help them survive, as well as help to bring justice for the fell deed's that had been done to the Princess's Elia and Rhaenys. Not even the Velaryon bastard child deserved such a fate. None of them did. All of them were innocent's and had never harmed anyone. Only a monster could have perpetrated such vile acts.

He wondered which one of Lord Tywin's rabid dog's he kept on retainer had performed thusly.

The sight of Tywin's golden son however surprised him.

Ser Jaime was on his knee's in front of Elia's body with his head bowed. Ned could see tear's rolling down the young man's cheeks.

That was not an act; something which definitely came as a surprise to Ned.

"Ser Jaime? Did you see who did this?" Ned asked the boy quietly.

At first, Ned had thought the boy was not going to answer him so silent did he remain. However, he turned to face Ned and when he spoke, his voice trembled with a mixture of barely repressed fury and a large amount of sorrow.

It was almost as if he was looking _through_ Ned, instead of directly at him.

"I failed My Prince. I promised to do all I could to keep his family safe, but I failed him; I failed them all. I thought I had saved them when I killed King Aerys. His wildfire couldn't be unleashed then, and the Princess and the babes would be safe..." Jaime trailed off; a faraway look in his eye's.

Ned wasn't sure the young lion even realized what he was saying. He seemed unbelievably broken by the murders before them. What he said about Aerys though, that threw him off guard. He had thought the knight had killed his king for Lord Tywin's benefit or pleasure; not killed him to prevent the death's of the rest of the Royal Family present.

"What was the King going to do Ser Jaime?" Ned asked.

He would not have put anything past the lunatic. It was well known throughout the entire realm that he loathed his son's Dornish wife, and he had even said his grand-daughter had, _'smelled Dornish'_.

He hoped that in the state the young Lannister was in he would actually get the truth out of the boy.

"He'd called Wisdom Rossart to him. All over the city, he'd already had caches of wildfire strategically placed. I didn't know until that moment that he'd already had it done days before...nobody did. The Alchemist's were only waiting on his word. When he learned my father was sacking the city, he sent me to fetch my father's head. I left the Throne Room, but I stayed behind and hid in the corridor. I didn't want to leave the Princess unprotected from the King. He gave the order...the crazy fucker actually gave the god's be damned order!" Ser Jaime exclaimed loudly.

"He said _'let the Usurper rule over a city of ashes'_ ; that _'he would become the dragon and then defeat all his enemies'_. He kept saying _'burn them...burn them all'_!'" Jaime explained numbly in a fair imitation of the Mad King's voice.

"I knew those order's could not be carried out; could never be carried out. When Rossart left, I followed him. Before he could leave the Keep though and carry out the monstrous deed, I killed him. He had no time to carry out his orders. _Half_... _a_... _million_... _people_..." Ser Jaime's voice stated as he trailed off again.

He was quiet for a moment, and Ned feared he would say no more, but eventually he carried on with his tale.

"I returned to the Throne Room. King Aerys saw the blood on my sword. He asked if it was my father's blood. By that time, I think I had become a bit...detached...I suppose is the only way to describe it. It was as if a part of me was not quite there; yet I was there at the same time. I calmly explained that no, it was not my father's blood; it was the Pyromancer's blood. He started screeching and yelling then, as mad as ever." Ser Jaime said; shaking his head at the mad memory of Aerys II's final moment's of life and reign.

"He kept ordering _me_ to give the order to the Pyromancer's; _'to burn them all'_." He kept repeating.

"All I could remember were the people he'd hurt." He said with some of the detachment leaving his voice as he actually looked at Ned then.

"Your father and brother...poor Queen Rhaella and the rape's...I thought for a moment to knock him out, but then I wondered...What if he woke up? He'd just have somebody else carry out his orders. No!...He had to die. He saw me coming at him with my sword and panicked. He tried to escape down the steps of the throne, but I got him in the back. He was still screaming to _'Burn them, Ser Jaime! Burn them all.'_ even as he lay bleeding out." The youngest member of the Kingsguard said as he finished his horrifying and dark tale.

"I thought that was it. That was all I needed to do. Your friend would take the city, and they'd send the Princess and the babes back to Dorne." Then, he murmured something Ned thought was about the Princess Rhaenys and Dorne, but Jaime was too quiet for him to make out exactly what he was really speaking of.  
It did not make much sense to Ned at all, but he continued on and Ned dismissed the mumbled words as rambling's from a troubled mind.

"She'd have been happier there anyway. I never thought...I forgot just who my father was...what he was..." Jaime trailed off as Ned's thoughts whirled.

Ser Jaime was not the honorless craven or false knight like he had assumed. He'd judged him too harshly; he'd judged him wrong. Ser Jaime was a true knight, and he had thought he was saving them. The part of Ned raised by Jon Arryn wanted to condemn the boy's actions. He had broken his oath after all. However, the greater part of Ned...the _Stark_ in Ned...found himself not only agreeing with Ser Jaime, but respecting the burden he took upon himself as well.

He may have broken one vow, but he kept the one's Ned deemed to be of far greater import; his knightly vow's to protect all women and children...to protect the innocent.

Ser Jaime Lannister had more than upheld the vow's that Ned believed mattered most.

"When I got here, I saw Amory Lorch and the Mountain leaving the room. _Monster's_." He spoke; his voice a near whisper of derision and disgust.

"My father sent _monster's_ to do this." Jaime said still somewhat dazedly.

Ned believed the boy. He could not blame him for not expecting such brutality as had been present in that room. He certainly never would have expected anyone to do such a thing; especially not to a Princess of Dorne!

They will never forget what happened. They most certainly would never forgive it either. The Dornish had memories nearly as long as Northmen.

Not that Ned would in any way blame them.

"I was wrong about you, Ser. You may have killed your king, but you did the right thing. He could not have been allowed to do what it was he intended. No, you definitely did the right thing Ser Jaime." Ned told him.

Then, unbidden, another thought made itself aware.

" _Lie_ , Ser Jaime. Say you do not know who did it. You were on your way to check on the Princess or something...anything else. There's no need to be called a 'kingslayer'. You saved half a million lives this day. You did not fail." Ned told the younger boy sternly.

Ser Jaime looked up at him sharply. It was as if he was truly seeing his for the first time as his emerald green eye's narrowed in thought.

"I still failed My Prince. I _promised_ Prince Rhaegar. Now he's dead too; killed by that drunken whoremonger." Jaime finished as his shoulder's slumped in defeat.

Ned thought the young knight must have had a particularly hard time in balancing what it meant to be a Lannister, and what was obviously his desire to be a true knight of the Kingsguard.

"That was not your fault. You're not responsible for your father's actions. You _are_ a good man Ser Jaime. Never let anybody tell you otherwise. Your action's and their reason's speak far louder than mere words ever could. Don't say anything about Aerys. I'll make certain no one think's to lay any blame on you." Ned said.

He had almost thought to tell him that all was not lost, that Rhaegar yet lived, but he did not. He could not risk anything happening to his sister. The young man may mean well, but he was still the son of Tywin Lannister. He could have accidentally let something slip, and that could be catastrophic.

Ned could no longer bear to see the remains of those poor souls. With one last look at the young Kingsguard, Ned departed from the awful sight that would haunt his nightmare's for many years to come.

"I demand those responsible for that act of barbarism and base brutality be punished!" Ned declared heatedly the next day.

Robert had arrived to a...lukewarm...welcome in the capitol at best. In general, he was met with silence. Even Robert Baratheon's boisterous nature appeared to have been subdued by the more or less blank stares of the citizens of Kings Landing and the Crownlands as he made his so-called _triumphal_ entry into the Targaryen capital city. He had been expecting the wild acclamation and cheer's of half a million soul's happy to finally be out from under the Mad Dragon's rule. He had either forgotten, or somehow deluded himself into thinking he would be happily welcomed by a people that were in truth nearly as loyal as the inhabitant's of Dragonstone itself to the Targaryen Dynasty...and more than likely always would be. He would never be warmly welcomed in that city, and the Lannister's even less so.

Which brought them to their current predicament.

Robert and Jon Arryn had arrived, and things had become heated. He had been called down to the Throne Room. The sight that met his eye's was another dose of disgust at the greed, cruelty, and avarice of Tywin Lannister; just as he was now beginning to see it in Robert himself.

Laying before the steps of the Iron Throne and wrapped in crimson Lannister cloak's were the murdered bodies of the Princess Elia, Princess Rhaenys, and the babe 'Aegon'.

When Ned had demanded that justice be brought against the perpetrator's of such heinous act's, in truth he was only somewhat shocked by what followed. The war had long since removed his naivety where Robert was concerned.

Robert looked down at the corpses. Instead of the disgust that should have been evident on any _decent_ man's face (especially when staring down at one's own kin); Ned saw a look of grim satisfaction. It was a look that chilled Ned to his very bones and left him utterly disgusted.

"The Princess Elia was an _innocent_ woman, and the children were only _babes_ ; a danger to _no one_." Ned declared; unable and unwilling to keep the censure and disgust out of his voice.

He looked up at Ned fiercely when he spoke then.

"I see no babes, no children before me; I see only _Dragonspawn_!" Robert spat with a malicious look in his eye's that actually made Ned take a cautious step back in shock.

"They are no innocent's. They are the abomination's of that silver-haired _shit_ that took my Lyanna from me! The children of the bastard that dared to take what was _mine_! They were the spawn of a mad rapist!" Robert bellowed at him and even went so far as to actually spit upon the bodies!

Ned would admit himself highly disturbed to notice a slightly mad glint in Robert's eyes.

Any mention of Targaryen's seemed to make the man violently angry to an obsessive level; an unhealthy and dangerous level.

He could never learn the truth of Lyanna and Rhaegar until they held a massive force at their back's.

Never.

"How you can speak such vileness, I know not." Ned spoke with slow caution; his utter disappointment and complete disgust plainly evident.

"You are no longer the man I thought I once knew; perhaps you never were. A _good_ man would not allow such butchery to go unchallenged! A _good_ man would never spit on the broken little body's of children; regardless of whom their father was. A _good_ man...an _honorable_ man...would most certainly never reward the foul beast that ordered such a shameful act!" Ned stated fiercely as he shot a look of the utmost loathing and disgust at Tywin Lannister's cold visage.

"Do you honestly think you are helping yourself? Even with the Targaryen Dragon's at the height of their power, they only brought Dorne into the empire through marriage. Do you think you will ever bring this country peace by refusing to punish...nay by _rewarding_ the men that butchered a _Princess of Dorne and her children_? This is _madness_! This is _wrong_! I will have no part in this. You are no longer the man I thought you to be Robert Baratheon." Ned growled out passionately with all the ferocity of the direwolf on his family sigil as his blood boiled at the injustice.

His own Wolfsblood, so rarely evident and controlled, was raging through his veins.

He could not stomach such abhorrent action's.

He would lend no support to such a vile travesty.

No one would ever be able to name the Stark's a part of this regime of whoremonger's and vile murderer's.

He would have no part in it.

Robert looked like he wanted to take his hammer and grind the Warden of the North into the dust.

"Unless you'd like to end up like your _precious_ Dragonspawn you seem so fond of defending, I'd have a care how you speak to your King, Lord Stark!" Robert bellowed back at Ned; completely enraged at his 'defiance'.

"You dare to threaten me! I would have _you_ remember who _you_ are speaking to. In case you have forgotten, my family and I have ruled half this continent for over _eight thousand years_! Break the damn siege of Storms End yourself! If the Robert I _thought_ I knew ever returns...we may yet speak again. Till then, stay below the Neck." Ned roared right back at the Stag King as exactly what he was threatening actually made it into Robert's somewhat dull-witted mind.

The beyond being reasoned with 'king' made an inarticulate sound of the utmost fury his house word's were famous for.

The large Baratheon made to charge at the Lord of Winterfell as a fluxommed Jon Arryn desperately wrapped his arms around the charging stag to hold his enraged form back.

Ned was surprised to find that Jaime Lannister had stepped up to his side; sword in hand!

Ned saw Lord Arryn motion for Ned to depart the room to cool Robert down, and he did not hesitate to do exactly that. He bowed his head in Ser Jaime's direction in thanks for the Kingsguard's readiness to come to his aide.

Ned then went straight to where his men were encamped.

He had to depart from this den of vice, murder, and corruption.

He had to find his sister!


	2. Chapter 2

**The Dragonborn**

 **Chapter II.**

 _Ned's POV cont._

"Ned!" The Greatjon's voice boomed out upon sighting his liege.

Ned had somewhat managed to cool down his ire. While a very large part of him truly meant every word he said to Robert as he was thoroughly disgusted by the lack of justice as well as Robert's rewarding of the foul act's, part of the display had also been for show. For what he had in mind to work, their needed to be a visible split between Ned and his so-called 'allies'.

"Jon, order the men to make ready. I would have you lead the host back to the Riverlands. Make for Riverrun for the moment. I have to go find my sister. I'll rejoin you as soon as I am able." Ned informed the Lord of Last Hearth.

The Greatjon nodded his head.

"You can count on me, My Lord. I'll keep the men under control. Best of luck in finding Lady Lya. Would you...what I mean to say is...Well, would you let Lady Lya know that she has been greatly missed at home, My Lord?" The Umber finally managed to awkwardly get out.

Ned was touched by the concern his bannerman held for his little sister. Of course, it was not that surprising. Lyanna had lived her whole life in the North; unlike him. He well knew she was greatly beloved by almost all that knew her. Ned would readily admit, Lyanna certainly had a charm about her; as wild as the North itself and as beautiful as the blue winter roses she was so fond of.

"Thank you, Jon. I'll let her know." Ned told the Umber Lord with a slight smile as he felt his mood lift..

The Greatjon nodded his head and left to carry out Ned's orders.

Now, Ned needed to gather the men he would have need of. Howland would be meeting him of course. He'd decided to bring Ser Mark Ryswell, Lord Willam Dustin, Theo Wull, Martyn Cassel, and Ethan Glover. He trusted them implicitly. They'd also be very well placed when the time came to help assure things went in their favor in the future. He asked each one of them to accompany him privately. He warned them that they may see things that might be shocking or surprising, but that he would need their word that they'd never speak to any of it outside his presence or without his leave. Every one of them gave him their word's unequivocally even though Ned suspected at least some of them may already have guessed the reason such an oath had been necessary. Ned would always be grateful for such loyalty. The god's only knew he'd likely have great need of it in the future to come; whatever may lie in store for them.

The future was an unknown quantity.

Only time would tell just what their fate's may be.

He was preparing his horse to leave Kings Landing the next morning. He actually slept better in the tent he had set up with his men just outside the city wall's. He didn't think he could bring himself to sleep inside the Red Keep so soon after all the horror's that had so recently unfolded within; not to mention it being the very place his father and eldest brother were murdered.

He was surprised to see that he had a visitor before he would be allowed to take his leave; Lord Jon Arryn.

Ned was still unsure of what he should even think of Lord Jon. He liked the man personally of course. He had half raised him after all. He even respected him- a great deal in fact. He could not help but wonder though at the near indoctrination he had given Ned during his studies and upbringing into his vision of Westeros, because Ned could now see that was exactly what it had been. What all was in it for him he wondered? Whatever the case, he was now far more wary of the Valelord. Ned had never been this...this cynical...he supposed was the only word for it before. If the war had taught him anything though, it was that everyone had their own motive's.

While Ned had never been so jaded in the past, he knew a part of it was inevitable. Part of it was having the blindfold of childhood removed and simply growing up. As much as he might wish it, Ned knew he would never be able to escape the game's those southron's played with each other; the Game of Thrones. So much had happened to his family though, that Ned was beginning to believe he preferred things this way. If he questioned everyone's motives, at least he could be somewhat prepared for the hell's men were capable of unleashing upon one another. The god's knew he himself had felt like unleashing some of his own hell on Robert and Tywin.

The elder lord had walked up to Ned by then.

"Hello, Ned." Lord Arryn greeted.

"Lord Jon." Ned said with a respectful nod of greeting.

Let it never be said that Lord Eddard Stark was one to forget his courtesies; even if he was the only one of his sibling's that had ever really bothered with such things.

"Bad business in the Keep yesterday past it was. I understand where you were coming from, Ned. Truly, I do. What happened to the Princess and her babes was awful, but...we _cannot_ let that tear everything we've worked so hard towards apart. If we are to survive, we _must_ stay united. We are the only thing holding Westeros together at the moment." Jon said; no doubt trying to get Ned to mend his fences with Robert. He would lend no support to a man that condoned child-killing.

The Seven Hell's would freeze over first.

"It wasn't awful, My Lord. It was an atrocity; a vile act of rape and murder of a princess and royal children." Ned said as calmly as he was able.

Inside, he was anything but.

Jon Arryn let out a weary sigh as he ran a hand through his thinning grey hair that still bore a few brown fleck's from the youthful color it once held.

"Aye, it was, but Robert...Robert is in a difficult place, Ned. We must stay united and stand by him if we are to maintain everything we've all worked so hard towards..." Lord Arryn said before Ned interjected and cut off whatever sorrowful bullshit about Baratheon he was about to spill.

Ned was most assuredly _not_ in the mood to listen to anything about Robert's 'delicate sensibilities'.

"That's _not_ what this was about. Not for me anyway. It never was! I certainly did not spill good Northern blood merely to give that oaf a crown! This was _never_ about that. _You_ made him king, not I. Oh, don't worry." Ned said when he saw Lord Arryn's mounting look of fear at what he thought Ned was getting at.

"I'll not be causing any trouble for Robert. However, I have clearly seen what some had long since warned me of about him; even mine own family. I never would listen before, but they were right. I'll not be rebelling, but neither will I lend mine and the North's might to prop him up. My people suffered more losses in this damned farce of a war than... _any_... _other_... _kingdom_. They did not _die_ to make Robert Baratheon a king! They _died_ to avenge their lord and his heir. They _died_ to remove a tyrant and a madman from the throne. They _died_ to bring back the only daughter of Winterfell! No one even _asked_ my opinion about crowning him. I am going to find my sister. If she still wants to marry Robert Baratheon, then she will, but I will _never_ force her after everything she and the rest of us have been through. _No more_ of my pack will be forced apart." Ned said sternly.

"Afterwards, I will return to Winterfell, and see about healing my own realm. I was never trained for the position, but my duty is now to the people of the North. They and my family are the _only_ things I shall be focusing on. I have bled, and given all I could. Ask no more of me, for you shall receive no more; at least not until he corrects the wrongs he's done. Do not presume to pressure me on the matter Lord Arryn, for I am _not_ feeling charitable. In time, I have hope that things...that _he_...shall improve." Ned explained in an iron tone of voice; though admittedly he was lying through his teeth at the end when he said he had hope's for Baratheon's improvement.

He knew perfectly well Robert would not be changing, and frankly he had no desire for a rapprochement. For his own peace of mind, he had to sever ties. It was for the best. He would not allow his conscience to be pulled in multiple direction's. He would support his blood...and _only_ his blood.

Jon Arryn stared at him long and hard. What he was looking for, Ned knew not, nor did he particularly care in that moment. He only wished to leave. The old Vale Lord eventually sighed again. He always was a patient man. Ned was certain he would need every ounce of his patience dealing with a Robert Baratheon with a crown on his head.

"I understand, Ned. I'll try to work with him, and I have hope that he'll come around. Especially about what you told him in regards to the Dornish." Lord Arryn said with a sigh as he looked towards the heaven's above; thinking what- Ned knew not.

"You were very much correct in that regard, and I shall endeavor to make him see reason. He'll come around once he's cooled down, especially if he has our Lyanna by his side. I don't suppose you'd reconsider ending the siege at Storm's End would you?" Lord Arryn added with an all-around too hopeful tone throughout his words.

'When mammoth's fly!' Ned thought silently.

Robert would not be changing his stance on anything. It would not surprise Ned to see him reward that butcher Tywin even further! Nor would Ned be risking the life of a single one of his Northmen in Robert Baratheon's name again. Those days were long over. The Tyrell's could still cause a mighty amount of trouble should they and any of the Dornish wish to.

"I'm sorry, Jon. I can't. I have to find my sister...I...I have a bad feeling that won't go away. I cannot waste anymore time." Ned said and he was not lying then.

He did have a very bad feeling. He had to make sure Lyanna and her babe were safe. He could _not_...he _would not_...lose them too. Too many had already been taken. He would not lose his baby sister as well, nor her child.

"Alright, Ned. I wish you safe travels and good luck. I have hope you shall find your sister hale and hearty; at least with your appearance by her side once more. Also, tell Lyanna and Benjen their old uncle would not mind a visit sometime in the future. At the moment, Benjen and Lyanna are the only true Arryn-blooded heir's of an age I've got left; though I have hopes yet that Lysa may grant me a son before I'm in the ground. " Jon Arryn told him with a good-natured pat to his shoulder.

"Be safe, My Lord, and I wish you the best of luck as well." Ned said.

The god's knew Jon Arryn was certainly going to need all the luck he could get.

Ned mounted his horse and rode to join the small group that would be travelling with him. There was a ship that awaited him at Duskendale. Word had been sent to him from Howland Reed. He was going ahead and taking the Crown Prince the short sail to Dragonstone after they had learned of the Sack and its aftermath. When it dropped them off, it would be returned to Duskendale and waiting on him and his men. Ned could not imagine what his good-brother must now be going through.

Ned did not look back to the Red Keep and the sacked city surrounding it as they rode further into the Crownlands.

The ride through the Crownlands had gone quicker than Ned had thought it might; at least he felt like it had. The lands in this kingdom had not been hit as hard by the war as places like the Riverlands. Though, they were missing a good number of their lords and men. Ned was unsurprised to see so many Targaryen Dragon banner's still flying proudly. He did not doubt where their loyalty still resided. No doubt they would bring the banners down soon enough, but it was enough to know that Robert would never truly be able to count upon most of them for any real support.

The five of his chosen men and Ned himself had boarded one of Lord Manderly's ships that was awaiting him just as Lord Reed had said it would be. He was lucky to have such men that he could actually rely upon in his service. The short voyage to Dragonstone was an interesting affair for Ned. He'd never been much for sea voyages. None of his siblings were particularly fond of them. Direwolves and water did not mix well in general. That was part of the reason the North had not bothered with much in the way of a navy in centuries. That, and the fact that after Torrhen bent the knee to Aegon the Dragon, they'd not had much need for one. He had plan's to change that though because whether he liked ships or not, the North had need of them now; possibly more than ever before. Time's were most assuredly changing, and he had no way to divine what the future could hold.

As he sat on the deck, he was alone with his thought's for the moment. His men were all still asleep down below. He actually found himself fond of watching the sun rise across the deep blue waters that were such a dark shade of blue as to appear almost black. With the new ray's of the dawn upon them it was a most breathtaking sight watching the water's of the Narrow Sea reflect the rising pink and yellow hue's of the new day

He felt a sense of inner peace and calm wash over him as he absorbed the dawn's early light.

Ned let his thought's wander to the plans for the future that were slowly beginning to form within the confine's of his mind. If Lyanna bore Rhaegar a son, they would become all the more imperative. At least he had gotten away with not having to actually swear fealty to Robert. By the time he had brought the Northern army out of the Neck and into the Riverlands, Jon Arryn had already proclaimed Robert 'king'. As he was the new 'kings'... 'best friend'...he knew most thought that he had already given his fealty or perhaps that it was an understood thing. Regardless, he was glad no one had ever thought to bring it up. His own honor was in no way bound to Robert Baratheon. It allowed his conscience to be clear as he helped to plot what his so-called allies would undoubtedly view as 'treason'.

So far, his plans revolved around a few projects he had in mind. For one, he was now determined that the North must have a strong fleet. With Moat Cailin properly repaired and garrisoned, the only way any unwanted armies could enter the North would be by sea. A proper naval force could at least greatly slow such an event down. They also needed a real port on their western shore's. Not only were the Lannister's too close for comfort there, but he did not trust the Greyjoy's as far as he could throw them. He knew that Balon Greyjoy was nothing like his more realistic and sensible father, and was a firm proponent of the 'Old Way' of the Ironborn; rapists and thieves the lot of them in Ned's opinion. He despised them.

He would also like to restart the efforts his father had made to build a new canal to link the eastern shore near White Harbor to Moat Cailin and the Fever River which would grant access to the Blazewater. Not only could it bring untold amount's of wealth to the North by cutting down the shipping time by over half in many cases, but it would also be imperative for the defense of their western coast. It did not hurt that properly patrolled and garrisoned correctly; the canal had the potential to be another large barrier of defense- a massive moat if used as a defensive weapon. The note's his father left behind were invaluable. It was also an ingenius idea that according to his father's writings, had originally been proposed to him by Queen Rhaella herself.

Apparently, the North had intrigued the Queen, and she had studied considerably about the North itself as well as its people. The idea's of the canal even dated from well before Lyanna became involved with the Targaryen's. He would have been hard pressed to ever consider what Lord Rickard and the Queen had conjured in their plans, let alone come up with the idea. To cross to the other side of the Wall, and work with the Wildlings (the Free-Folk, his father had called them) to gain the use and support of the giant's and the mammoth's. His father had thought to offer them fertile land south of the wall for the more...civilized... of the 'Free-Folk' to govern themselves as long as they did not disturb other lord's lands. He wrote how he hoped that in time they would become assimilated with the rest of the North as they were the same blood and worshipped the same god's. They were both the blood of the First Men after all, only the Wildling's had been unlucky enough to be on the wrong side when the Bran the Builder built the Wall. The god's only knew they had plenty of unsettled lands too that he could easily grant for their use.

If he actually managed to gain a few giants and mammoths, what would have otherwise taken decades to complete, would likely only take a few years. If it was remotely possible to pull it off, he _would_ see it done. It would take massive amounts of investment capital to pull off though, and Ned was not sure that even with the right investor's they'd be able to accumulate enough of the needed gold to actually begin and finish such a mammoth-sized project.

Another idea he'd discovered was to send for miners and explorers to scour their own mountain ranges. He did not hold any delusions about finding any gold veins, but silver on the other hand was definitely not out of the realm of possibility as it was known to be found in some area's of the North. Also, he had access to massive and mostly untouched forests. With some few exception's in the more recent generation's, they'd never bothered to export any of their rather vast amount's of natural resources on a very large scale besides their fur trading; at least not in mass quantities. However, he knew there was a large demand for timber in both the south of Westeros as well as parts of Essos. Exporting good Northern timber was something they had in abundance that could yield the North a large amount of gold. They would need every bit of an asset they could get their hands on in the times to come.

Using the funds new venture's such as those would grant them would not only pay for a large fleet, it would also pay for the possibility of both sell sword's as well as properly training and arming the North's full strength.

And hadn't that just been quite the shock to the system!

When he returned to Winterfell after his father and Brandon's murders, it had fallen to Benjen to properly explain the numbers he was seeing from their father's notes.

Apparently, House Stark had not reported an accurate census to the capital since the time Cregan Stark went south during the Dance of the Dragon's!

All his sibling's (bar him apparently) had been aware of the truth though. Benjen had explained that Father had not informed Ned because he did not wish for Robert Baratheon or Jon Arryn to know just what the North was really capable of. Most often, in times of war when the Crown called upon the banner's of House Stark, only a certain number of their more well-known lord's and their real strength were ever sent south.

Whereas the rest of the world believed the North capable of fielding twenty-five to perhaps thirty thousand men, in truth; they could call on many... _many_...more. All told, the North was capable of marshalling around sixty thousand men; a truly massive army if they ever had real need of such a force.

Supposedly, such things were for the North's rainy day; along with the fund's he now knew existed in the name of House Stark within the vault's of the Iron Bank of Braavos. Since the days of his grandfather Edwyle Stark, every son or daughter of Winterfell held a vault with their own inheritance from House Stark's steadily increasing wealth. Even now, Ned was still unaware of the full extent of their holding's and business venture's as he'd simply not had enough time to learn all he needed to know. It had been intended for each child of the Warden of the North to establish their own branch of House Stark in the effort to establish and further Stark rule and interest's throughout the various region's of the expansive North (and large dowry's in the case of the daughter's of Winterfell).

Ned suspected they would most assuredly have real need of every last drop of support they could muster if he was ever to see his sister or her children sat upon the Iron Throne. Ned was well aware that was the only way they'd ever know even a measure of safety. Otherwise, his so-called 'best friend' or his likely-to-be Lannister bred heir's would hunt them for the remainder of their day's, and that was a state of things Ned would never allow.

Never.

He was distracted from his pondering thought's by the arrival of Ser Mark Ryswell.

He liked Ser Mark. He had been friends with Brandon all his life; him and Lord Willam Dustin, but he had grown close to them all throughout the war. He knew the rage the two of them especially felt surrounding Brandon's execution. If he was being honest though, he liked Ser Mark the best with the exception of Howland Reed. The man was smart, and he was honorable to a fault. He was a quiet and soft spoken young man with a good heart and ever ready with a kind smile. Few men ever really lived up to the idea's of chivalry the way Ser Mark did.

The Ryswell knight nodded in greeting.

"Good Morning, My Lord." The young man said; smiling out at the water as they slowly crept closer to the Targaryen ancestral castle.

"Good morning to you too, Ser Mark; and I told you it's just Ned unless we're in a formal setting." Ned returned with an easy smile.

These men were loyal and true, and he felt much more comfortable around them than the southron's he was usually surrounded by.

Ser Mark grinned at him.

"Aye, My Lord Ned." Mark said smartly.

Ned rolled his eyes.

"Might I ask you a question, Ned?" Ser Mark asked; a slight hint of hesitation could be heard in his tone.

Ned had a feeling he knew what was about to be discussed, but he had already put his trust in these select men. He didn't mind. If he couldn't trust them, he could not trust anyone, and that was something he was not prepared to accept nor believe.

He still had hope, especially where his own Northmen were concerned.

"Ask what you will, Ser Mark. I trust you all. I'll answer any questions you may have as honestly as I can." Ned replied.

"We are headed to Dragonstone, correct?" Mark inquired.

"Yes." Ned replied instantly.

"Targaryen-held...Dragonstone. You already know the Lady Lyanna to be there, obviously. After I actually served with our new...'King'...and knowing Lady Lyanna all my life as I have, do you really believe she was abducted?" Mark asked quietly.

The sound of waves gently crashing against the ship and the call of the sea gulls surrounding them soothed Ned as he decided to be honest with the truth of the matter.

"I know she was not taken against her will Mark. This entire war has been nothing but a lie. Lyanna was never kidnapped, she left with Rhaegar willingly because she is his wife. I have learned much of late; including the truth my father died to protect." Ned began.

"You see, Princess Elia could not have any more children after the birth of the Princess Rhaenys. If Aerys, who held little love for the Dornish Princess had known, I think you can imagine what he would have had done with her. Prince Rhaegar and the Queen helped her to fake a pregnancy. 'Prince Aegon' was a Velaryon bastard of the Driftmark; a set of twins apparently. The Prince wished to overthrow his father, but he needed a real heir to gather the full support of the lord's. He and Lyanna met at the Tourney of Harrenhal and fell for one another. The Prince went to my father to ask for his permission to wed Lyanna. After explaining everything, and I expect realizing it would be _his_ grandson that would one day sit the Iron Throne, my father gave them his blessing for them to wed. Lyanna became Rhaegar's second wife. In Winterfell I found where Father had even already written the letter to break Lyanna and Robert's betrothal (that never had the chance to be sent), only none of them informed Brandon or myself of what they had planned. We still don't know exactly _who_ told Brandon that Lyanna had been 'kidnapped' by the Prince." Ned explained the basics of what had occurred; his thought's still swirling with suspicion's concerning who exactly was the culprit that lit the metaphorical keg of wildfire.

Ser Mark was silent as he thought over everything he'd been told. Ned noticed he did not seem overly shocked by anything he'd been informed of. He was sure anyone who had really _known_ Lya had already had suspicion's about her so-called 'abduction'.

"So the... _Princess_...has been on Dragonstone all this time?" Mark asked curiously.

"No, they were there in the beginning, but then they went to a remote tower in the Red Mountains of Dorne for some time. Ser Gerold Hightower, Ser Oswell Whent, and Ser Arthur Dayne were stationed with her as she's carrying the Prince's child. If Rhaegar lost at the Trident, they were to bring her under the Queen's protection on Dragonstone." Ned answered.

"Lyanna's with child?" He asked surprised.

"Yes, she should be due any time now I believe." Ned said with a smile.

He was rather looking forward to being an uncle.

"If that child is a boy, he'd be the rightful king, Ned!" Ser Mark said in realization of just what that could mean.

Ned was silent for a moment before deciding he'll likely soon see the proof anyway, he may as well tell him the full truth.

"Not exactly. Even if she's delivered of a boy; the babe's father is still alive..." Ned began before Ser Mark interrupted him with a gasp

"Prince Rhaegar's alive? But...I saw Baratheon..." Mark trailed off unsure.

Ned nodded in agreement.

"We all saw that, and it did in fact happen. However, he survived." Ned said.

After some thought, he decided that a small lie was better than sounding insane by telling him that Rhaegar's funeral pyre somehow magically healed the Prince.

"He wasn't injured as badly as was thought; merely unconscious." Ned settled on saying.

Not... _exactly_...the full truth. Not a lie either.

"That's...that's alot to take in." Ser Mark finally said.

Ned snorted at that.

"Aye, that it is." Ned agreed.

Ser Mark looked thoughtful.

"No doubt the Tyrell's would have already bent the knee. Even if the Dornish wanted to, they don't have the means to battle Robert Baratheon and his allies together. Our own army is more exhausted than any other. They'll have to go into exile, will they not?" He asked.

Ned bowed his head.

"That is the only option I believe is plausible. They'll have to hide, and bide their time; hopefully while growing a force in Essos to help them return." Ned said wearily.

He dearly wished there was any other option than his little sister having to leave Westeros altogether, but for the time being, he knew it was the only real choice.

"Lord Stark." Mark said addressing him formally.

Ned lifted an inquiring brow.

"Ser Mark?" He asked in return.

"If you would allow it, I would depart with the Royal Family. If you'd allow me, I'd watch over and serve your sister in any way I'm able as if she were mine own sister. I have known the Lady Lya all my life, and I've always been very fond of her. I owe it to her and Brandon to help them in anyway I'd be able. Now that I know the Crown Prince is not a mad kidnapper, I know he'd make a _much_ better monarch than the Baratheon could ever hope to be. Baratheon's recent action's; well, they have not exactly impressed me in his favor at all...and that business in the Throne Room..." He said; trailing off with an uncharacteristic look of disgust gracing his usually kind feature's.

"With the Prince and your sister on the Iron Throne, Westeros as a whole would have a much greater chance of unity and healing. Robert Baratheon truly had no real right to usurp the crown, and I would gladly protect and serve the rightful sovereign's. One day, we would then have a king with the blood of the First Men; _a Stark King_ seating the Iron Throne. I would be honored to help make that a reality." The Ryswell knight swore loyally.

Ned was surprised by the young knight's declaration to say the least. He was also very impressed with the man. Besides, his sister and her new family would need every bit of loyal help they could get. Few would serve as a better protector than Ser Mark, who was loyal to them beyond any doubt.

Ned knew he could not refuse such ardent and steadfast loyalty. The part of Ned that was still the ever-honorable Eddard Stark...the small part of Ned's belief in the goodness of people that remained to him that even the war and it's aftermath had not managed to erase completely... _that_ part of Ned was happy and in a way felt vindicated to know men of honor such as Ser Mark still existed in their corrupt world.

"As long as they have no problem with it, than I would be most thankful to have a Northman as loyal and kind as you to help protect my sister and her family. You are a true knight, Ser Mark." Ned told him with a smile.

The man next to him grinned in response and steeled his resolve.

Ned could tell he was adamant that he would always live up to his Warden of the North's faith in him.

"Speaking of knight's, My Lord; would you mind explaining to me why exactly it is that Ser Jaime Lannister's on this ship posing as a particularly inept, yet remarkably well-groomed deckhand?" Mark asked bewildered.

He could not help the laughter that burst through at his friend's words.

Ned was surprised he recognized the boy, though going by Ser Mark's...colorful...description of the boy, perhaps he should not have been. With his hair cut and dressed as he was, he looked nothing like shining young Kingsguard everyone now associated with the name Jaime Lannister, at least he hadn't to Ned.

"That boy is full of surprises. I had thought he was just like his father and most other Lannister's, but I learned differently. He took his vow to serve House Targaryen seriously. He was utterly disgusted by the action's of Robert Baratheon and especially his own father. He apparently knew of what really occurred with the Crown Prince and Lyanna; yet he told no one- not even his family. Right before we boarded the ship after the ride to Duskendale he showed up. I admit I was quite surprised. He'd followed us out of the capital you see. He wanted to protect the Queen and Rhaegar's last child. Eventually I confessed to him that the Prince was still alive, and he begged me to bring him with us. Had I not seen his true nature for myself, I never would have risked it, but the boy's more honorable than even he think's he is; mayhaps _especially_ more than he believes." Ned explained to a dumbfounded Ser Mark.

"An honorable Lannister...huh? Will wonder's never cease? Well, I guess anything's possible, though...admittedly, I believed the Seven Hell's would freeze over before I'd ever see an honest Lion." Mark said with a bemused expression gracing his handsome features.

"I was just as surprised as you are honestly, but pleased nonetheless." Ned replied with a smile as he waved a hand in greeting to Theo Wull and Ethan Glover who were just coming up from their cabin's.

"We'll be arriving soon." Mark said as they drew closer to the island and saw the Royal Fleet laying at anchor; dozen's upon dozen's of warships lay in the harbor of Dragonstone and all about the surrounding waters- the last vestige's of Targaryen power in the Seven Kingdoms.

"Aye. That we will." Ned agreed.

As their lone ship approached the harbor of Dragonstone, a large warship bearing the banner's of the Seahorse of House Velaryon closed in on them. Ned ordered a white flag to be hoisted over the Merman of Manderly. At the helm of the approaching vessel stood the Grand Admiral of the Royal Fleet, the Lord Admiral Lucerys Velaryon; Lord of the Tides and Master of the Driftmark and perhaps the staunchest Targaryen loyalist in all the Realm- and most likely a wanted man and named 'traitor' by now. Ned was not under any delusion's that the Admiral would be looking upon him with any kind of favor, but hoped he had at least become aware that he meant no harm to any of Dragonstone's occupants.

Lord Velaryon gave a stiff nod in response to the white flag above, and the two ships dropped anchor long enough for a plank to be run between the two vessels in order for Ned to come aboard the Lord Admiral's ship to speak with him. Once completed, and much to the grumbling suspicion's of his own men, Ned boarded the Velaryon ship alone.

The Admiral was of a middling age; somewhere between the ages of Ned himself and his father's age. His Valyrian feature's showed clearly with his short cropped silver hair and violet eyes. The man's face seemed to be carved from marble so hard was the set of his jaw and piercing eyes.

Eyes, which at that moment, were narrowed at Ned in unyielding suspicion.

Ned had expected no less.

"Lord Admiral Velaryon." Ned greeted with a nod of his head to the elder lord.

"Lord Stark." Was the man's curt reply.

Ned decided to get to the heart of the matter before any more time they did not have was wasted.

"Did you receive the... _gift_...I had sent to Dragonstone not long ago; a certain young man that bear's a resemblance to yourself, along with a Lord of the Neck?" Ned asked; not wishing to say Rhaegar's name aloud lest any untrustworthy ears happened to be within hearing distance- unlikely as such a thing was aboard a Velaryon vessel.

That, Ned saw, was enough to actually cause the Lord's stern visage to thaw slightly as a brief smile flitted across his refined feature's.

"Indeed I did, Lord Stark- a most welcome as well as a most unexpected surprise. The Queen was... _most_ grateful for the gift you sent; most grateful indeed. In truth, I was as well. It has provided much hope where before little enough had been left to be had. So tell me, why are you here, Lord Stark?" The lord asked; now with an easier grace about him as if something unknown previously had just been confirmed.

Ned stepped closer to the Velaryon Lord so as prevent his next words being overheard by anyone else.

"To see my sister and her husband, Lord Velaryon. I am here to help in any way I am able." Ned told the man.

The Lord of the Tides stared a him for a long moment before nodding his head in a decisive manner. When an actual full smile appeared on the Lord Admiral's face in the next moment, Ned wondered at the cause. Frankly, he did not think there was very much at all to smile about at present.

"There have been two... _unexpected_ addition's...Lord Stark. You are an uncle now, My Lord. Your sister has given us a new prince and heir." Velaryon informed him.

Ned's eyes widened in surprise. Lya has a son! He was an uncle!

Slowly, Ned's own face bore a smile to match the admiral's.

"They are both well, mother and son?" Ned questioned; needing to know that his sister was safe as he was well aware how dangerous childbirth could be for some- both of their own lady mother's being particularly painful reminder's.

"I will not lie, Lord Stark. The Princess had a most difficult time of it, and for a while we thought we would lose her. Then your...gift...arrived. With her heart and her spirit's lifted, the Princess Lyanna rallied. She is well on her way to recovery and our new prince could not be any stronger; a lusty little lad indeed." The Admiral told him so proudly.

The note of pride manifest in the Lord Admiral's voice was great enough that one would have thought him to be the baby's father or grandfather, such was the relation and staunch loyalty between Houses Velaryon and Targaryen.

"You spoke of a second addition Lord Velaryon?" Ned questioned curiously.

"Indeed I did, Lord Stark." The Velaryon Lord spoke, his smile growing even larger for a moment.

"When your sister arrived on Dragonstone, she brought with her a great and most wondrous surprise. Besides the Kingsguard, she was accompanied by the Princess Rhaenys herself!" The admiral surprised him by saying before his expression abruptly shifted to something far uglier.

"After we heard tell of the vile atrocities which happened in the capital..." The Admiral spat disgustedly in reference to the Sack of Kings Landing.

"You can imagine our surprise when your sister showed up with little Rhaenys in tow. Apparently the Princess Elia had her secreted away to where your sister was residing when she heard of their husband's supposed defeat and that the Lannister army was on the move..." The Lord said before Ned interrupted him.

"Rhaenys? But...but how? I saw Tywin lay her murdered corpse in front of Robert with mine own eye's! I saw Ser Jaime weeping over the them right after Clegane and Lorch killed them!" Ned questioned in shock.

"Indeed. I don't know who the little girl butchered in the Red Keep was, but it was not the real princess. Rhaenys told us herself how her mother snuck her out of the capital with the help and collusion of Ser Jaime. Princess Elia sent letter's for several of them with the Princess. One for the Queen, one for each of her brother's, and one for your sister. I know she asked Princess Lyanna to care for, look after, and raise her daughter with her child as she would her own and your sister swore to do just that." Lord Velaryon told him softly; his stern feature's softened with respect for the murdered Princess and grief at her loss.

"Thank the god's! I am very happy to know the little Princess yet lives, Lord Admiral." Ned exclaimed in relief.

He was still being constantly haunted in his dream's at night of the murdered Princess and her babes...well, babe he amended as he knew 'Prince Aegon' was actually the bastard son of the very man that stood before him. He decided not to mention the loss of the man's natural son.

"The men I bring with me are all exceptionally loyal to my house and my sister. I trust them with my life. Also with me is Ser Jaime Lannister. He was thoroughly disgusted by his father and Robert's actions. He followed me in secret to Duskendale before convincing me to allow him to come with us. I trust him, and that trust has been confirmed for me when you told me of his part in helping to save the Princess Rhaenys' life. I told him of the _gift_ I entrusted with Lord Reed, and he desperately seeks an audience. Would you escort us to the keep? I would see my sister and nephew before we are forced to part." Ned explained quietly.

Now, there was no hesitation in the Lord of the Driftmark to be seen.

"Right away, Lord Stark." The Admiral acknowledged, and motioned Ned back towards his own ship.

Ned shook the Lord Admiral's hand firmly before walking briskly back to the vessel; feeling a bit lighter than when he had taken his leave. The news that his little sister had bore the Prince a son and that she was safe and recovering was a balm to Ned's soul. He was immensely thankful that the new little prince would have both of his parent's to be there for him as he grew. Part dragon he may be, but he knew any son of his sister was bound to be every bit as much a Direwolf of the North as he was a Dragon; and undoubtedly wolf-blooded to boot.

That the Princess Rhaenys lived was also sweet relief. His heart had ached terribly after the memory of her broken and bloody body. He was still saddened that someone's little girl had indeed been murdered, but knowing the real Princess yet lived was a surprise blessing indeed. That would also help in many way's, Ned knew; especially with the Dornish. Prince Doran and Prince Oberyn would be much more likely to aid them as much as they could knowing that at least something of their beloved sister remained amongst the living.

Yes, Ned was definitely feeling lighter. His countenance was all the brighter because he now knew the Pack was growing stronger once again. They may have lost his father and eldest brother, but Benjen and their sister still lived- and she had given them a new pup! He imagined that the Lady Ashara had likely given birth to Brandon's daughter as well. A smile flitted across the normally stoic visage of the Warden of the North. These two new pup's would be of an age with his own young son, Robb, who he had recently received word of the birth of. He dearly hoped that in the fullness of time, they too would become close.

The old adage flitted through Ned's mind once more: ' _When the cold winds blow and the lone wolf dies- the pack survives_.'

When Ned and his men stepped foot onto the soil of Dragonstone Island, he was of a much brighter spirit than he had born upon sailing from Duskendale. Everything was changed now, but the love he held for his family would always remain the same. When he was shown to his sister's chambers and saw her sitting up with a beautiful silver-haired violet eyed babe in her arm's that she was looking upon so lovingly- Ned knew in his heart that all the strife and struggle they had undergone that had brought them to this point might yet be worth the sacrifice's and struggle's they had all endured.

When Ned and his men stepped foot onto the soil of Dragonstone Island, he was of a much brighter spirit than he had born upon sailing from Duskendale. Everything was changed now, but the love he held for his family would always remain the same. When he was shown to his sister's chambers and saw her sitting up with a beautiful silver-haired violet eyed babe in her arm's that she was looking upon so lovingly- Ned knew in his heart that all the strife and struggle they had undergone that had brought them to this point might yet be worth the sacrifice's and struggle's they had all endured.

They still had hope, and hope was the most important and most valuable thing of all.

"Oh, Ned!" Lyanna all but shouted out in excitement upon sighting him.

Time briefly stood still, and for a moment, Ned felt he was but a young boy of ten name day's returning from the Vale as his little sister's bright smile and happy face greeted him in welcome; her silvery grey eye's alight and bright like starlight on a clear Northern night.

Sitting there, holding her new babe, Lyanna looked a vision of beauty. She was a vision of contrast with her dark hair, skin pale as snow, and a healthy rosy glow that was like an inner light lending her radiance from within. She had grown up on him; somehow...someway...his little sister had become an absolutely breathtaking young woman. She had really grown into her features in the last couple of years. While her face still bore the traditional look's of a Stark, it was no longer quite as long and narrow-looking. Her sharp high cheekbones only accentuated her beauty. Her dark eyebrow's were finely arched, and her full lips were lush crimson. At the moment, they were curved into the same warm smile that had welcomed him home every time he returned to her from an extended time away and had never failed to warm his soul and make him feel as if he could take on the world itself.

Ned moved towards the bed Lyanna rested upon.

"Lya." He murmured as he bent down to hug her for the first time in what felt like an age.

He smiled into her wild curly hair. He was so very happy she was safe and alive.

Lyanna was squeezing him with her unoccupied arm for all she was worth as Ned noted the hot tear's beginning to spill from her eye's.

"Ned, I'm so very sorry about Father and Brandon. If any of us had thought...had known..." Her voice trailed off sadly.

He would not allow her to feel such guilt, especially not now after everything he had learned.

"It was not your fault, Lyanna. _None of it_. I, for one, should never have even suggested a union between you and Baratheon." Ned said; barely even able to speak the man's name any longer without the utter disgust he now felt for his former friend rearing its head. "You can't help whom you love, Lya. Besides, Rhaegar told me of all what happened. You did the right thing by asking for Father's approval instead of just running off. It is in _no way_ your fault that he did not choose to tell Brandon, nor is it your fault somebody lied to our brother which caused him to act so rashly. You have _nothing_ to be sorry about, Lya." Ned told her softly, but firmly.

Of course it was not her fault, she was barely more than a girl still at that time anyway.

"I miss them both so much." Lyanna confessed quietly.

"As do I, Little Wolf; as do I. But we are pack, and when the cold wind's blow and lone wolf dies..." Ned was saying before she finished his words for him.

"The pack survives." Lyanna finished firmly.

"The pack survives." Ned agreed.

"Now, speaking of pack, why don't you introduce me to its newest member?" Ned asked as he finally tore away his eye's from his sister's face and gazed down upon the beautiful babe in her arms.

Lyanna immediately brightened as she bestowed upon Ned a brilliant smile; warming Ned's heart with the love he could clearly see she held for her firstborn.

"Ned, allow me to introduce you to your very first nephew, Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen, the Prince of Dragonstone." Lyanna introduced; her motherly pride beaming through her every word and gesture.

"Jaehaerys is a bit of a mouthful, especially for a child to try and pronounce, so I've taken to calling my little one 'Haery' It just feel's... _right_...for some reason." She added with a smile.

"Haery, meet your Uncle Ned. He rule's all of the North and is from Winterfell, that's where Mama is from." Lyanna told her little babe; though of course he could have no idea what they were actually saying.

Ned observed the child closely as he smiled down at the boy. He had to be the most beautiful babe he had ever laid eye's on; and Ned did not think that only because he was his own nephew. It was just the honest to god's truth. He looked exactly like his father with his fine silver blonde hair and eye's of a deep violet hue. His eye's were truly enchanting. There were small tiny fleck's of the silver-grey of his mother's eyes that looked as if miniature stars resided within. It was a mesmerizing effect. Also, the way they looked at Ned was completely unlike any babe of that age he had ever seen or heard of. Ned could almost swear the boy was examining him right back with uncommon intelligence shining in those Valyrian tinted orbs. Little 'Haery' had a decidedly inquisitive look about him. When the young boy seemed to finish his examination of Ned, the little prince proceeded to grin up at him and give him a big gummy smile that melted Ned's heart right then and there.

He mentally swore he would do all in his power to protect that precious babe and insure he was one day able to take his rightful place in the world.

"Hello, Little Haery. I'm your Uncle Ned. I've got a little boy of almost the same age as you. I hope the two of you can be friends with each other some day." Ned told him and he could almost swear the child somehow understood what he was saying.

If he didn't know any better, he would have thought the boy had nodded his head in agreement!

Ned blinked a moment.

'No, something like that was not possible...he must...he must just be seeing things.' He thought.

Ned blinked that crazy thought away (they were becoming much more frequent since he joined the 'Targaryen camp' he noted idly). Perhaps their family...maladies...were rubbing off on him?

"He's beautiful, Lya. He may look just like his father, but I can easily see you in that little face too." He told her with a smile.

"Thank you, Brother. Oh, and congratulation's on the birth of your boy too! I'm so happy for you, Ned." Lyanna told him.

"Another little wolf. With Brandon's little Elaena, and now your son and mine own, we'll have our pack back again soon, and stronger than ever." Lyanna said.

"Thank you, Lya." Ned told his sister as he walked over to get a chair to sit next to her.

At that moment, two other's entered his sister's room; Rhaegar, and whom Ned thought could only be Queen Rhaella...a heavily pregnant Queen Rhaella.

Ned was certainly surprised by the Queen's state, but did his best to hide it, not wishing to appear rude as he remembered Ser Jaime's words about Aerys and what he had been doing to his sister-wife.

Ned immediately stood up in respect.

"Your Grace's." Ned greeted with a bow for the Prince and the now Dowager Queen.

Rhaegar walked towards him first and two firmly shook hands before Rhaegar went to get two more chairs for himself and his mother.

Queen Rhaella held out her hand to Ned and he bowed over it as he placed a light kiss above the air as custom dictated.

Ned had to admit, he could now see exactly where Rhaegar got his good look's from. His mother had to be one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen in his entire life. Her silver blonde hair was done up in an intricate knot, and her regal face gave him a kind smile in welcome.

"Welcome, Lord Stark. I cannot tell you how very grateful I am for what you have done for my family. Seeing my son returned to us alive was greatest gift I have ever received, and I'll never be able to thank you enough. I don't know what I would have done had you not aided him." Queen Rhaella told him sincerely; strong emotion evident in her thankful tone.

"It was my pleasure, Your Grace. We are kin now, and there's nothing I would not do to protect my family." Ned told her humbly.

She graced him with a beautiful smile.

"That we are, and I feel the same. We may have lost much, but I believe we have gained even more. My son and grand-daughter finding their way home, and the birth of my precious grandson have given me new hope when I had thought all hope was lost." The Dowager Queen told him.

Ned just bowed his head in response.

Light refreshments were brought in as they all got situated to discuss the current situation the Royal Family now found itself in.

"Your Grace, have you given any more thought to what you wish to do?" Ned asked Rhaegar; finally tackling the metaphorical elephant in the room.

Rhaegar let out a deep sigh as he took Lyanna's hand in his own.

"We have discussed things, Ned. Also, please; it's just Rhaegar, Good-Brother." He said with a slight smile before returning to the matter at hand.

"All agree on the necessity of temporarily going into exile. After speaking with my mother and Lyanna, I believe I have come up with a plan of sorts. For one thing, at the moment the most important issue is everyone's safety. The safety of my family is my first and foremost priority. In the end, nothing else matter's or is anywhere near as important; especially whilst the children are all so very young. Therefore, I think it will be better for all to think me dead. Lyanna agreed that she believes she too should appear deceased to the rest of the world; especially to Robert Baratheon. I suppose you could send word that she died of complications from a fever or something of the like. Though...we did hear about your rather public falling out with Cousin Robert." Rhaegar said and here he seemed overcome with something.

"Ned, I...it meant a great deal to me that there was at least _one man_ brave enough to stand up to those monster's and call them to account for their evil deed's. When I first heard about the Sack just before we boarded your ship in Duskendale..." Rhaegar trailed off, and Ned could see him struggling hard with his emotion's for the first time since meeting the normally very self-composed Prince.

"When I thought that my little girl had been butchered...and El...Elia..." It was then that Lyanna wrapped her arm around her husband who was temporarily lost in grief for the woman who had been his wife, the mother of his child, and beyond that...a beautiful friend.

"I am sorry I was not able to beat Tywin Lannister to the capital. I tried to get there as soon as I was able, but frankly; I never suspected it would result in the destruction I witnessed. The Princess Elia was a wonderful woman, and I mourn her loss. I am sorry I failed you, Your Grace." Ned said with his head bowed in submission.

With Lyanna's help, Rhaegar had pulled himself back together from his momentary loss of controlling his emotion's. His eye's hardened when he looked at Ned's bowed head.

"You are in _no way_ to blame, Ned." Rhaegar told his good-brother firmly.

"I know how fast your army reached the capital. It is not possible to have moved even remotely faster with such a large force. No, Tywin Lannister and his mad dog's did not _beat_ you there. They arrived first because they had set out for Kings Landing well _before_ the Battle at the Ruby Ford...and I have little doubt it was with the full intention's of doing _exactly_ as they did. Tywin had longed for revenge against my house for years now, and he finally succeeded; at least partially. No, Ned. I honor you as the only man to raise the cry for justice! The only one to call the _vile_ act's for what they were! In time, Lord Tywin shall be reminded that the Targaryen's are _not_ Reyne's or Tarbeck's...and the Lannister's are not the only one's who pay their debts...they now owe a debt of such proportion's it can _never_ be fully repaid, but I will see to it that their life's blood is used to pay it back _in full_." Rhaegar told him with a determined look as un-checked anger ran through him.

Lyanna's gentle touch managed to soon bring him back to his usual sense of self-contained stoicism that he had always been so well known for but a hint of his rage still took a while longer to dissipate.

"I will mourn Elia always, but we survive, and in large part thanks to you, Lord Stark. We must now move forward so that Rhaenys, and Jaehaerys, Viserys, and Mother's babe are _always_ safe and secure. To that end, I believe our first stop should be Braavos. Mother informed me of quite a few things that will make our exile far easier to accommodate than expected, as well as better enable us to prepare for our return; things my father never spoke of and that I too was unaware of." Rhaegar said; beginning to outline the plan they had recently begun to scrape together.

"Aerys never bothered with our foreign holding's, but my father and grandfather left me well schooled in that area. I have since maintained as much of it as possible by myself without Aerys' knowledge. I was not as blind to the possible consequences of Aerys' madness as some would like to think, and the further he declined, the further I grew and developed our Essosi holding's. Since before the time of the Dance, there has been what we called a ' _Keeper'_ that maintained our foreign economic power and estates; as well as our good relation's with quite a few noble families in Essos. It was never the current monarch, and many times, the reigning king's were not even aware of our asset's existence." The Queen began to explain.

"For one thing, House Targaryen posses' several suitable residence's in Essos, and we have under various name of course, large tracts of land that we own. We have manses in Braavos, Pentos, Lys, Volantis, as well as the hill country between Pentos and Norvos that no one except us are aware exist; some of our holding's are even as distant as Qohor. We shall not lack for homes, nor for location's to begin to grow our might militarily. Also, House Targaryen maintained two account's with the Iron Bank. One, was in the name of the Seven Kingdom's themselves, and I know for a fact that both Tywin and Cousin Robert are well aware of the gold in that particular account's existence. What they do _not_ know is the fact that the gold in that account was _always_ merely a cover...a smoke-screen if you will. Each year, several percent of the Crown's total revenue was sent to the Iron Bank. Only about ten percent of that gold was placed into the vault they are aware of. The vast majority of the funds were placed into a vault that was solely in the name of House Targaryen; and at the moment, _my_ name in particular. My ancestor's knew that anything was possible; _especially_ after the loss of the dragon's. This was set up as a means to help us reclaim our home's if something like the current rebellion ever occurred." Queen Rhaella shocked him by informing him.

The shock's did not end there either.

Rhaegar chuckled.

"Mother is far shrewder than most anyone could have ever conceived." Rhaegar told him proudly.

It was easy to tell just how much the Queen meant to her firstborn son.

"Robert and Tywin will also both be in for a great round of disappointment's when they make to find and secure the Treasury. One would not think that such a thing would be of any consequence to the Lord of the Rock, but what almost everyone is unaware of is the small fact that large portion's of the mines of Casterly Rock have begun to run dry after all these millennia of continuous mining." Rhaegar shocked them all by informing them.

"They are by no means broke of course, but they do _not_ have the amount of gold everyone is under the impression they possess. What's worse for them, is that the Lannister's penchant for excess and overly-lavish living has meant that they did not put away much of their gold, and instead spent what was mined with little worry or concern of it ever running out. In my opinion, that was the true reason for the annihilation of House Reyne as that gave the Lannister's possession of the mine's of Castamere which I believe to be their main source of income at present. Again, the number's of people in Westeros whom are aware of that is insignificant and a closely-guarded secret; something Lord Tywin hold's very close to his chest." Rhaegar informed him with an almost shark-like grin.

"His late wife was my dearest friend all her life though, and we always shared everything with one another. Tywin has no idea just how much I am aware of his internal family affairs; some of which even Lord Varys was never able to successfully ferret out the truth of. That was, I believe, a large part of the reason for Lord Tywin's mad dash to reach the capital before anyone else. Unfortunately for the Lord Lion, he's sure to suffer grave disappointment on that particular front. As it happens, when I left Kings Landing for Dragonstone, I brought almost the _entire contents_ of the Royal Treasury with me!" The Queen informed them with a beautiful smile gracing her fine features.

"So, the Crown is now broke? Robert usurped a bankrupt throne?" Ned asked; actually laughing out loud at the thought.

It was especially unfortunate for Robert as he knew for a fact that the revenue's of Storm's End were less than stellar and not near enough to even begin to maintain anything approaching a royal court.

Lyanna's grin too was all teeth.

"Indeed, he did, Brother. Indeed he did." She confirmed with a chuckle.

"We also still have the fleet, which is far larger than most are aware of as when I came to Dragonstone, I brought almost half the warship's that were stationed in Kings Landing with me as my 'escort'. They just never went back. Around half of the entire navy was already docked at Dragonstone and the Driftmark anyway, and not long ago a large squadron of ships that had been part of the Royal Fleet at Gulltown finally arrived. All total, we have control of about three-quarters of the entire contents of the whole Royal Navy." Queen Rhaella explained with a very self-satisfied smile.

That was _a lot_ of naval power- far more than anyone else in Westeros possessed. For a brief moment, Ned almost even considered using the armada to retake the capital from Robert and continue the fight, but then his better sense kicked in. It was not with power over the seas that Robert won the throne. That would not benefit them.

It could greatly benefit them later however.

"We plan on releasing the men whom will wish to remain in Westeros. The ships with as small a crew as possible are going to be sent in squadron's to various ports in the Free Cities after striking our banner's. Once there, I intend to hire sell-sail's to bring the ships back up to full crew's. For the moment, the fleet will be divided up in to four separate squadron's. Three of them will sail to Braavos, Pentos, and Lys and begin operation's as separate companies with no apparent outside ties to us, _or_ to each other. Using them as mercenary fleet's for hire is about the only way to not only keep the men active, but also bring in more gold to keep the fleet maintained in good repair and numbers. If we are exposed, they can be brought back together quickly enough as one entity." Rhaegar explained.

That was an extremely good plan for the fleet. Not only would the fleet be maintained with experienced crew's, but the funds earned would enable them to replace and keep up-to-date any ships lost at sea and most likely even expand the size of the fleet.

'Yes, very thorough indeed.' Ned thought.

"I also intend to send two detachment's of the fleet to Northern water's if you'll have them. Some of the larger transport ships and cogs can be used to export Northern product to sell in Essosi port's. As the North at present has no real fleet of much standing besides the small fleet kept by Lord Manderly, a squadron of warship's will also be sent to defend the newly-turned merchant fleet. Would that be acceptable, Ned?" Rhaegar asked his good-brother.

Ned's reply was quite swift as he had already begun thinking of doing exactly the same.

"Indeed, it is more than acceptable. I was already planning to develop a Northern Fleet. This will be a large boon for us to get started with. I have several plan's of mine own that that my father had been working towards that I believe shall be able to bring a large amount of benefit's to both yourselves as well the North itself." Ned answered.

Lyanna raised an impressed eyebrow, but it was the widening of the Queen's eyes that Ned focused on.

"Did you find the note's Lord Rickard and I had compiled, Lord Stark? About the canal?" Rhaella asked curiously.

Ned had a large smile on his face then, which given his solemn nature was surprising.

"Yes, Your Grace. Before I left Winterfell, I studied the plan the two of you put together, and I must say, I found it to be absolute genius. As soon as I return to the North, I intend to begin to implement the beginnings of the plan. The possibilities are truly endless and the potential for phenomenal benefits are near limitless. I have no idea exactly _how_ I will be able to convince those needed to help begin the project, but I will do anything necessary to see it done." Ned replied.

"You and Lord Rickard had a plan about something? What's this about, Mother?" Rhaegar asked curiously as he had obviously never heard of what they were speaking of.

"Year's ago, I had taken quite a lot of interest in the possibilities of economic expansion in the North. They have near-unlimited amount's of many natural resources that would be in very high demand not only in the south, but in Essos as well; especially Essos in fact. It had the potential to not only greatly benefit the North, but to bring about a greater amount of prosperity to the entire continent. The problem's with shipping Northern product however, were vast and many. For one thing, White Harbor was the only large port. They also did not have much in the way of a navy to protect a merchant fleet. Also, much of the good's would originate on the Western shore of the North which has virtually no ports at all. The distances between everything was also seen as nearly a insurmountable problem." Rhaella said as she began to explain to a curious Rhaegar and Lyanna.

They were unaware that the baby in the room was soaking up all the information like a sponge as he was learning so much about this strange new world he found himself in.

She continued on.

"Now, geographically speaking, there was an obvious; yet at the same time, highly difficult solution to all those problem's: a canal." Rhaella surprised them by saying.

"If a canal was built from near Moat Cailin on the Fever River (which is accessible to the Blazewater and the Sunset Sea), and dug along to a point on either the Eastern shore and the Narrow Sea or possibly the White Knife and White Harbor...almost all of those previous problems are solved. Transport time would be cut in half or more in many cases, and one could go by sea from say Casterly Rock to Gull Town or even Pentos without having to circumnavigate the entirety of Westeros. The amount of gold to be made on such a venture is near limitless." Rhaella elaborated to her now wide-eyed son and good-daughter.

"How could a man even build such a structure though? I mean I could possibly have seen the Valyrian's of old because they had dragon's, magick's and science's we're ignorant of even now, but in this day and age?" Rhaegar asked curiously.

Lyanna wondered the same thing, though the images of certain beast's popped into her mind that most in the south probably did not even believe existed.

"That's what the problem of conceiving such a venture has always been: _how to build it_? From everything I studied though, I believe that if they could somehow be convinced to help, the...being's...on the other side of the Wall would be ideally suited to such a monumental task." Rhaella said.

Rhaegar was unaware of what his mother could be referring to, but Lyanna immediately understood.

"The giant's and the mammoth's...and maybe the wildling's with some of their warg's, right?" Lyanna deduced questioningly.

"Exactly, My Girl! That is exactly what we had in mind, and your father was going to travel to some of the more advanced Wildling settlement's and see about gaining their aid. In return, they'd be given their own more desirable lands south of the Wall, and be able to govern themselves like always, so long as they did not encroach or disturb other lord's lands." Rhaella said; finishing her succinct explanation of the idea.

It was a truly brilliant idea if it could be made remotely feasible.

However, even if he were to be successful in gaining the aide of the Wildling's, Giant's and their Mammoth's; that still left the problem of the amount's of gold needed that even the combined wealth of the Stark's would still be lacking for.

"I will be planning an expedition to the far north as soon as possible upon my return, but that still leaves me with a large problem. Even _if_ I am successful in gaining the support needed for the labor of such a herculean task, even using Lyanna and Brandon's inheritances, I'd still not have near enough gold to properly finance the venture despite the massive gains it would bring." Ned said.

Queen Rhaella did not miss a beat.

"Have no fear, Lord Stark. If you would accept, I would be more than pleased to finance the entire project as a joint venture of Houses Stark and Targaryen. This is something that could aide all of us greatly and even help in our restoration. If we divided the profit's made when the canal open's, it would also provide a permanent investment and return for both my family's future as well as your own." The Queen offered.

Ned did not need to be asked twice about that. This actually made such a thing possible. Now, all he had to do was to... _somehow_...manage to convince the people they have warred with and that have hated them for millennia to help.

'No trouble at all.' He thought sardonically to himself but was determined to do his best to see it done.

Ned smiled at the Queen.

"I would be more than thankful for the help Your Grace. I gladly accept that proposal. This could easily turn in to the most profitable venture my family ever even contemplated." He replied to a now thoroughly pleased Queen Dowager.

She may just yet live to see her brain-child born and the changed world it would bring with it.

They continued on discussing the amounts of gold needed as well as planning out the logistics of such a massive undertaking, and then Lyanna posed a question of interest to all in the room.

"Ned, do you believe Jon Arryn will actually be producing any children with that new young Tully wife of his?" She inquired.

Rhaegar and the Queen looked dumbfounded as to the reasoning of her asking such a seemingly random question, but Ned immediately understood the reasoning behind Lyanna's curiosity.

"That...is a difficult question to answer, Sister. As you well know, none of his previous union's went as he had hoped. With the age disparity now...well...who can say? He's already well past his sixtieth name day, and producing children certainly does not get any easier at such an advanced age. Lysa herself...there were rumors that she had lost a child already _before_ her marriage to Lord Arryn. Honestly, I would be rather shocked if after all this time (and on his third wife), he actually managed to reproduce." Ned replied.

"Why the curiosity, Lya?" Rhaegar asked.

The Queen appeared highly curious as well.

"Well, if Lord Arryn does not have a child with the Lady Lysa, then the next in line to the succession of the Vale would be either my brother Benjen, or even mine own son. You remember my mother was the eldest surviving daughter of Alys Arryn and Elys Waynwood, Sharra Arryn. With the death's of my cousin Jasper, and then Denys and his son, my mother's line is the eldest surviving branch of the Main Arryn bloodline. Most think that Hardyng boy is heir to the Vale, but Benjen is the _true_ heir." Lyanna explained.

It appeared as if that particular little tidbit of information had escaped the knowledge of both the Prince and the Queen.

"That's right! Your lady mother was the _second_ wife of Lord Rickard. She passed giving birth to your younger brother Benjen, correct?" The Queen asked.

"Yes, Father lost both Brandon and Ned's mother, my aunt Lyarra Stark, as well as mine and Benjen's mother, Sharra, to childbed fever." Lyanna elaborated.

That both of their mother's had died prematurely had always affected the four Stark sibling's, but it had at least had the effect that their mutual losses so early in life drew the four of them much closer to each other as besides their father, they were really all each other had.

If Lyanna's brother was the actual heir of the Vale, along with her other brother being the Lord of Winterfell...that had the potential to turn the tides in their favor in any future conflict.

Ned could see the wheel's turning in the two Targaryen's minds. The Vale could field fourty thousand men easily; possibly five to ten thousand more. Added together with the true strength of the North, the might of Dorne, and all the Targaryen loyalist's; those were some very impressive numbers indeed.

Conversation evolved from there, until Ned asked a question he himself had been curious about.

"Have you spoken with Ser Jaime, Rhaegar?" Ned asked.

Rhaegar let out a tired sigh.

"Yes, I spoke with him as soon as you arrived. Elia's letter and what Rhaenys herself told me are enough for me to know that the boy acted as honorably as he could. He say's he wishes to continue to serve us, but I am reluctant." Rhaegar began.

Lyanna and the Queen both appeared curious about the young lion.

"Reluctant why?" Rhaella asked.

"The greatest concern I have is that I believe Tywin Lannister would hunt him to the ends of the world. He still thinks of Ser Jaime as his heir, despite his status as a member of the Kingsguard. If he were to go with us, I'm not sure we'd be able to hide near as effectively. On the other hand, he appears totally disgusted with his father and Cousin Robert. He could be a valuable asset. Not only is he loyal, but he's one of the finest sword arm's in Westeros. When the time is right, I admit it would be much easier to deal with the Westerlands if we had a legitimate Lannister heir to replace Lord Tywin with. I believe he's an issue that's going to require much further thought weighing the pro's and con's of allowing him to depart with us." Rhaegar explained.

No one had a response to that as it was really the Prince's call to make regarding the future of the Young Lion.

Eventually the discussion devolved into more pleasant topics and Ned was given the chance to re-connect with sister as well as observe the highly interesting dynamic between Lyanna and her husband. He was pleased to see his little sister so happy and in love. He knew she was where she belonged now. He'd never seen Lyanna so utterly content as she was with her son in her arm's and her beloved by her side. It pleased Ned greatly and he knew that whatever else the future may bring them, the most important thing for Ned would always remain the same- she would never lack for love. That made everything all the more worth it in his eye's, because at the end of the day- that was the most important thing in life.


	3. Chapter 3

**The Dragonborn**

 **Chapter III.**

 **Author's Note-** _Thanks to everyone who reviewed the story. I really appreciate both the effort as well as ideas. It always helps to motivate and inspire me. This is the first chapter from Harry's POV. Just to be clear, there will not be a Jon Snow/Stark/Targ in this fic as Harry has essentially replaced him; though he will come to interact with the other Stark's and he will also receive Ghost. Also, anytime you see Harry/Haery/Jaehaerys; just remember it's the same person. Harry's points-of-view will be the most frequent. Sometimes their will random less major characters whom I'll write a POV for from the various parts of the World of Ice and Fire, like Jaime, Oberyn, Jon Arryn. or Varys. On the whole though, the most frequent will be Harry, Ned, Rhaenys, Dany, Rhaegar, Lyanna, and those of their immediate circle._

 **Disclaimer:** I Own Nothing...like at all.

 _ **Jaehaerys' (Harry's) POV** _

As if here were barreling towards the light at the end of a tunnel, he slowly became aware of his surroundings; though his vision was somewhat blurry. His brain was muddled and confused. He was not sure where he was...or even _who_ he was. No, that was not quite right. He was...Harry? Yes, that was his name. At least, it _had_ been. All he could really remember were bits and pieces of memory. Potter...His name was Harry Potter and he was a wizard. But, how was he here; wherever here was? He wracked his brain trying to figure out what had happened. It was just at the cusp of his consciousness...so close he felt if he could just reach far enough...he pulled towards what he was searching for with all his might within his mind.

BAM!

He let out a piercing shriek as he was violently assaulted with a whole lifetime of memories!

He was...No. He _had been_ Harry James Potter- a British wizard. He knew he was that no longer though. He had been killed...again. He supposed one could consider what he was experiencing as an identity crisis. He was Harry Potter, but at the same time, he was not. It was as if he did not hold any particular attachment to the person who had spent his entire life striving to forge a name beyond his title's and moniker.

He had died. Harry Potter had died, and he'd not arisen from the grave once again like he'd managed previously.

He remembered almost everything about his previous life; from his wretched upbringing with the Dursely's, to his life at Hogwarts. For some reason, he was unable to summon up any real feeling of emotion about his past life. It was almost like it was merely an extremely in-depth documentary or detailed biography of someone else that had imprinted itself within the confines of his psyche, and yet; he felt no connection to those whom he assumed (based upon the recollection's he held) had been friends and the extremely small number he had once called family.

Frankly, it had been an all around terrible life. If he felt anything, it was anger and disgust at having been treated and used in the manner he had been. Yes, somehow he could muster up a tiny bit of emotion about that. Even so, it was more his personal indignation on behalf of his past self towards the way people had manipulated him, than it was any real personal anger; like he was somehow far removed from whom Harry Potter had been. The memories were there, and her knew they were of his own past life, he just did not feel connected to them in any meaningful way.

Extraordinarily however, there was one area in which he felt pure unadulterated feeling and true passion: _his magic_!

Yes, he could feel all sorts of emotion's wrapped up into that aspect of his previous life; short as it had been. He remembered exactly how if felt to cast certain spells; the intoxicating feeling of power as the magic flowed through his veins. There had to be a reason that was the _only_ thing he felt any real tie to. What was it about magic that would allow him to feel emotion when he could tell that there had been people he had cared about...people he had even loved (few though they were)...and yet; he felt no lingering attachment or connection to any of them whatsoever?

His mind whirled as he thought that out.

The reason came to him when he recalled the memory of a wild-haired witch that had likely been beautiful once upon a time, and that had killed someone he believed himself to have been very close to; his godfather. He had wanted to hurt her...make her feel the pain that she had just caused him to endure...the pain of what she had ripped away from him. He had cast the Cruciatus Curse- he remembered it was one of the so-called 'Unforgivable Curses'.

' _You have to mean it, Potter.!_ ' Bellatrix had told him.

Intent.

It was the base from which all magic stemmed. Magic was all about intent one way or another; from the visualization of the perfect detail of a sewing needle in transfiguration, to the hate and desire to cause pain and agony of the Cruciatus Curse. A great deal of magic depended on the caster's emotions; a prime example being the Patronus Charm.

That was it!

That had to be the reason he could still feel the emotions his previous self had felt when using his gift's! If he couldn't remember what he was supposed to 'feel'...what his 'intent' might have been when trying to use certain magick's; he'd never be able to actually cast them correctly. He was certain that he was right. It was the only thing that made any amount of sense.

Well, at least that was one mystery solved.

Now, he supposed the most pressing question was where in the world was he?

Harry could remember dying. Lucius Malfoy...the scum...had shot a Killing Curse at him from behind directly after the Final Battle with the Dark Lord. He'd barely had enough time before the sickly green light took his life... _again_...to see the scum smiling malevolently at him. (In the back of his mind, he idly wondered where the bastard had even gotten a wand from considering Voldemort had 'borrowed' Lucius' own. He'd not have put it past the ponce to have stolen one from one of the many casualties that were laying about in the Great Hall.) Due to his admittedly rather excellent reflexes, he did have just enough time to get off one final spell in retribution. With his war-honed and sharpened senses, he'd managed to almost instinctually fire off a Decapitation Curse. The curse was cast both silently and near colorlessly, and he was certain he'd managed to wipe the gleeful look from the scum's face when his neck made impact with the final spell in the life of Harry James Potter.

As per the usual (from what he could remember of his short, but eventful life), that had been when things had gotten strange.

He had died and been returned to his body, only to be shot in the back by a filthy coward. He had to admit, that was a rather ignoble ending for the supposedly 'Great' Harry Potter. He really couldn't summon enough emotion or energy to care though. He was also already exceptionally sleepy for whatever reason.

He remembered once again going to the train station at King's Cross.

Thankfully, he was not forced to meet with Albus _Bloody_ Dumbledore more than the once in the afterlife! The once had been more than enough for him, thank you very much! That old bastard just couldn't stop himself from meddling even from beyond the grave!

No, Harry was never normal. He was met by Death.

Yes, that's right. Death, as in _the_ Death- the dread Grim Reaper himself.

Apparently, the whole 'Master of Death' legend was more than just a fairytale. He was the only wizard to ever be in possession of all three of the Deathly Hallows. He was not actually Death's 'master'. That idea was patently ludicrous. No one could possibly be _that_.

It did however, grant him an opportunity.

Death had explained to him that he had earned the right to choose.

He could stay dead and move on, he could return to his life as Harry Potter, or...or he could even have a different life altogether; a life he had a part in choosing for himself. Admittedly, it was not much of a choice, but a choice all the same and one that was far more than anyone else had ever been offered in the past.

Death had asked him what he desired most out of a new life- a new beginning?

Harry did not even have to think about it; immediately knowing the answer.

He had only wished to have a happy and loving family. That, more than anything else in the world is what he'd always so desperately wished for; people to love and be loved by in return. It was something that in truth he had never really experienced, yet had always yearned for more than anything else in the world. He thought if he could experience such a thing, he'd be grateful for eternity as it was all he'd ever wanted. He would also not mind doing something good for the world; helping people. He wanted to do something new that would help others because he had experienced more joy and fulfillment in such things than in anything else in life. Beyond that, he wanted to make a name for _himself_ ; to not be bound by his scar as he'd always been in the past. Very few people had ever seen him for himself rather than that damned lightning bolt-shaped image.

Still, as he'd said; most importantly to him, he merely wished to love and to be loved.

He wanted a real family.

Death had surprised him.

He was told that if he was willing to fight and help those in need, he would be given all that he asked for, _and more_.

If he agreed, he would be granted the unprecedented opportunity to retain both his memories... _and his magic_.

That had pretty much sealed the deal for him.

Harry remembered shaking Death's skeletal hand (as creepy as that was), as Death used his unoccupied hand to place a bony finger on the center of Harry's forehead (and incidentally exactly where his scar rested). After that, all he felt was an insurmountable amount of blinding pain and agonizing darkness. He felt as if every last part of his very being, right down to the last cell in his body and to the very marrow of his bones, was being rendered undone and remade.

His last conscious thought had been his surprise when he heard Death whisper to him in his mind.

" _Fate and Death have together granted you a boon for the many sacrifices you underwent to make your last world a better place for all, as well as how you selflessly did not covet the power the Hallows could grant as so many would, and indeed have done before you. You have always been a child of Fate, and that is something that shall never change. Wherever you exist, Destiny shall always be your companion in life; never far from your side and the guiding hand throughout the existence of yourself and all those who walk life's path along with you. Just as the Conqueror's Three once were, so too shall you have two loves now from your first day to your last. Never again will you be forced to walk through the path of life alone as they shall always be with you. You shall also be blessed with a true friend more loving and loyal to you, and to you alone- more so than any your previous life had ever known. All your life they will be at your side as your greatest friend's, lover's, and champion's. They shall support you, love you, and bear your children as together the Three Head's of the Dragon revive, re-empower, and recreate a powerful magical bloodline that shall herald the Eternal Summer and the dawning of a new age that shall last through all the eon's of time. Only you as the Chosen One can save them as you are now and forevermore: The Prince That Was Promised. You have passed all the tests set by the Fate's. Now, your true destiny awaits_."

He still had to come to terms with exactly _what_ that little whispered one way conversation meant as he was rather clueless at the moment, though of course he did not fail to note that it almost sounded like prophecy. The last lines especially hit a bit too close to home for him to come to terms with immediately in any case. He would admit that it did sound rather more pleasant than his life as Harry Potter had ever been; not that it should be overly difficult to achieve considering what his memories told him of his past.

He tried to take in his surrounding's once again.

He felt arms around him.

Even though his eyelid's felt heavy with exhaustion, he did his best to force them open.

Groggily, his bleary eye's slowly came in to focus as best they could.

His immediate reaction was that either he was now in a world populated by giants, or he himself was an infant once again. He suspected the former over the latter.

The first thing he saw was a beautiful young girl. She had long dark curly hair and creamy white skin as light as porcelain. Her face was slightly long and narrow with sharp high cheekbones, a small finely proportioned nose. She had full and plump red lips as lush as crimson blood. The smile she was bestowing upon him was near to blinding and one of unconditional love and care. There was a wild sort of beauty the young woman held that was entirely uncommon and that he'd never seen the like of before in his memories. She was truly unique. She was also without doubt one of the most beautiful women he had ever laid eyes on, and he could not help but feel an all-encompassing feeling love for the young woman.

In that moment, he knew she could be no one other than his mother.

Which meant- of course, that he was indeed a baby! A newborn baby at that.

At least he now knew what that god's awful feeling of everything closing in on him as he desperately tried to make for the light at the end of the tunnel had been; it was him escaping the bloody birthing canal!

He shuddered violently at the memory of his 'birth'.

Really, there were some things people should just not remember; their own birth was most assuredly one of them!

It was more than a little strange to have the mind of a seventeen year old in the body of a babe, but somehow it did not feel exactly wrong at all. He found that he had no real attachment psychologically to his previous life anymore; at least for now he didn't. He certainly remembered all of it, but the memories were hazy at best the longer he thought of them; except for the magic of course. That was the part that felt more real to him than anything else. Also, it felt like he was _supposed_ to be here; like _this_ was his _real_ life.

It was almost as if this was where he had truly belonged all along; where he was _meant_ to be.

He felt an intense bond to the woman before him. Something he had never experienced in the memory of his past.

Love.

He felt the love of a child for their mother. For the first time in either life, he also clearly felt that love reciprocated and returned whole-heartedly. He could quite literally _feel_ the love his new mother bore for him, and the magic in both of them telling him unequivocally that he was indeed both loved and treasured.

He relished in the feeling.

He really did have the chance for a whole new life and with a real family of his very own!

He strained his ear's as he listened to hear his mother speak as she seemed to be speaking to him directly.

"Oh, my Little Prince. I am so happy you're finally here. I waited quite a long time to meet you, you know. You are loved my boy; you are so...so... _dearly_ loved. You look so very much like your father too. I just know you'll be a little heart-breaker. How could you not be my little Dragonwolf? Everyone's going to be so happy to meet you too; your father especially! He's waited a long time for you to come as well. Oh Little Pup, you have no idea how happy you've made me. All in the same day I found out the your beloved papa was still alive and I got to hold my precious child in my arms for the very first time. Our family is waiting to meet you, but I almost wish I could keep you all to myself." She whispered quietly as if it was just a secret between the two of them.

In that moment spent within his new mother's arms, he felt well and truly blessed.

"Unfortunately, I suppose I'll just have to get used to the idea that it's not just you and me anymore; I have to share you. I will confess My Son, that your Mama was never very good at that, (just ask your dear uncles), so you'll just have to forgive your mother if she is just a tiny little bit possessive of you. Do not ever forget this though, your Mama love's you more than anything else in the whole wide world, My Darling." The beautiful young woman said to him.

"More than anything my little love." She whispered.

He had never felt so very warm and comforted...so very much loved...ever really. He could listen to his mother's sweet voice all day. It made him feel safe and secure.

He did his best to look up to her and give her a smile.

It came out as more like a gurgle, but she seemed to like it if her cooing at him about how adorable he looked was any indication.

Idly, he did wonder what he looked like. He was somehow certain it was nothing like his previous appearance.

He was somewhat confused by her words about finding out his father was still... _alive_? How does that happen?

He heard a noise off to the side. It sounded like another person getting up.

"My Princess, would you like me to admit the rest of the Royal Family to meet the Little Prince?" A young voice of another girl said from somewhere to his left.

What was this about the, 'Royal Family'? Did she really just refer to him as the, 'Little Prince' and his mother as a princess?

'What in the world had he gotten himself in to now?' He wondered.

'He could never just be normal, could he?' He wondered silently to himself; now extremely curious about what she was referring to.

"Yes please, Alana. If you don't mind, I'm ready." His mother replied.

He heard a door open and close. Then there was only silence momentarily.

"Your papa is coming to see us, Little Prince. He's going to bring your big sister, and your grandmother the Queen too. They'll all love you so much." His mother told him.

'His grandmother _the Queen_? Whoa! That was...something else,' he thought.

He soon heard the door open again, and heard what he guessed were chairs being brought near the bed they were undoubtedly resting upon.

He felt a brief stir of the air; almost like someone had quickly rushed to their side as he felt more than saw someone now leaning towards his mother and him.

"Oh, Lya! He's so beautiful!" A deep, yet melodic voice said to his mother.

There was a hint of awe discernable in his tone. The voice also somehow sounded familiar to him, though as he was a newborn, he could not fathom how such a thing was possible. It was almost like some long forgotten sound of comfort or perhaps remembered from a song he heard. He could almost swear he remembered the sound of what he thought to be a harp being played before that would accompany that particular voice.

"He looks just like you, My Love- a true Dragon!." His mother said in a pleased and satisfied voice.

The bed dipped as the man he suspected was his father sat down on the bed next to his mother.

He sensed two more people joining them on their other side.

"Oh My Boy, he look's just like you did as a babe. He's absolutely beautiful, Rhaegar. You did wonderful, Sweet Girl. I am so very happy. Now, if we can only get mine own little one delivered safely, everything will be perfect! Rhaenys Dear, come say hello to our newest Dragon. This is your new baby brother." Said a sweet sounding voice of a woman nearby.

He suspected it was his grandmother...the Queen?

He felt who he guessed was his sister coming closer to look at him.

All he caught was a flash of dark hair and a hint of violet eyes that appeared to be dancing in joy.

"Hello, Little Brother. I'm your big sister, Rhaenys. You never have to worry bout anything, cus I'll always be there for you." The girl...Rhaenys...said to him.

He saw a (relatively) small hand reaching towards his cheek. He knew it belonged to his sister. As she gently rubbed her hand along the side of his downy soft baby cheek, he felt a surge of magic. The only way he could describe it was as if his own magic was singing in joy and excited contentment at his elder sister's touch.

"He's so cute, Papa!" He heard Rhaenys tell their father.

"Lya, he's beautiful!" She told his mother.

'Wait, did they not have the same mother?' He wondered as his sister addressed his mother as Lya.

Curious.

"Thank you, Little Dragon." He heard his mother say to Rhaenys.

'What was with all the dragon references?' He wondered.

Perhaps they owned a dragon preserve?

He had so many question's about his new life and family, but as his cries confirmed, it was not as if he could ask. He supposed he'd just have to be exceptionally observant. At least that was something he'd always been rather adept at. He'd had to be in the house he had previously grown up in. He would discover all he needed to know in time, he was sure.

"Would you like to hold him, Rhaegar?" His mother asked.

He guessed Rhaegar was his father's name.

'Odd name that.' He thought.

"Yes please." His father answered softly.

He was then slowly and carefully placed within his father's arms. His father was cautiously supporting his head, and his hold was strong and gentle.

'So this is what it felt like to be held by your father.' He thought.

It was a very nice feeling; almost as comfortable and right as being held by his mother.

He opened his eye's as wide as he could and strained with all his might to focus on what he could see of his father's feature's. He was very curious as they all kept saying he looked just like his father.

When his infant eye's came in to focus on the young man before him he would have gasped in shock if he were able.

For a moment, he thought he was in the arms of a Veela. No, that couldn't be right. For one thing, there were no male Veela. He could tell the his father's hair color was a unique shade of silver blonde; almost similar to the bloody Malfoy's, but not quite. It was more of a rare shade of a true silver-blonde rather than platinum. At least what little was there was seemed to be silver blonde as for some reason his father's hair was exceptionally short. It looked as if he had only recently had his head completely shaved, and it was only now beginning to grow back in. For some reason, he got the impression that short hair was just wrong on him. Why? He knew not, it just felt...wrong. Beyond that, from what he could tell, his father was most likely the best looking male he had ever laid eyes on. His feature's were near otherworldly. He had high aristocratic cheekbones framed by very pale, yet healthy looking skin, a perfectly proportioned aquiline nose, very full pink lips, a fine jaw, and strong chin. His eye's were very similar to the brief glimpse he caught of his sister's; a deep luminous shade of amethyst that would put the jewels themselves to shame. His violet eye's were framed by long darker silver lashes, and a finely arched brow. All in all, if he ended up looking just like this man...well, he supposed he could force himself to get used to it. He was definitely one of, if not _the_ best looking man he had ever seen.

He just hoped he did not end up quite so...beautiful...he supposed was the only real descriptive to be used.

He'd not like the attention such a thing would render.

If he looked like either one of his parent's he would count himself lucky. He'd never seen a couple as beautiful as the two of them. They were a perfect study in contrasts; light and dark, hot and cold, ice and fire...Yes, he could definitely do worse than looking like this pair.

His father was now looking down at him; staring at him so intently it was if he was trying to memorize every little detail.

"Hello, My Son. I'm your father. I can't tell you how happy I am that you are finally here. Your mother and I love you so very much, Little Prince, so very much indeed." His father told him softly.

He could almost literally _taste_ the love and care his father felt for him as he held him securely in his arms.

"Now, what shall we call you, Little One? We need a fine strong name for such an amazing little prince; after all, you'll be the king one day." His father said; much to his complete and utter shock.

Him? King?

He was meant to be a bloody _king_ some day?

That was not exactly what he thought he'd signed up for when he agreed with Death to begin a new life; _not at all_.

"Lya, Mother, Rhaenys...what do you all think would be a good name?" His father asked of those in the room.

"Not Aegon!" Was the first thing out of his mother's mouth.

'Aegon? What was with all the odd names?' He wondered yet again.

His father chuckled deeply. The vibration's against his father hard chest when he laughed felt a bit like an earthquake to his small form, but he still felt safe and secure all the same.

"Okay, not Aegon then." His father agreed easily enough.

"Also no Aerys, Maegor, Baelor, Daemon, Maekar, Aenys, or Aerion." She added quickly.

Okay, _alot_ of weird names.

'Don't they have anything at all normal?' He wondered.

Queen Rhaella laughed at his mother's words.

"Agreed, My Daughter. I do not believe any of those old names would fit this little one." His grandmother put in.

"Alright, if your going to say no to all those, I'm saying no to Brandon, Eddard, Edwyle, Edwin, Rickard, Rickon, Rodrik, Roose, Torrhen, and Willam." His father countered.

He heard his mother just let out an indignant huff before she started laughing which his father soon joined in. The sounds of his parent's amused chuckles was very soothing for some reason and seemed to make him feel very happy and content.

"What do you think, Little Princess?" His mother asked his sister...he thought anyway.

"Obern...Obwen...O..be..ryn." Precocious little Rhaenys finally managed to say; having difficulty pronouncing the full name.

He did not know why, but for some reason, this caused all three of the adults in the room to break in to great peals of laughter.

He wondered who exactly this 'Oberyn' person was.

"Thank you, Sweet Girl. We'll add that one to the list." His mother said with an amused tone of voice.

"What about Daeron?" His father asked.

His mother just hmm'd non-committedly at that.

"Aemon?" His father tried again.

His mother's reply this time was only a slightly more pleased hmm, but not by much.

He wished he could speak. It would be so much easier for him to adjust if he could just keep the same name.

He decided to try it, although he was sure the there was no way the word would come out correctly.

"Harr..."

"Har..."

"Harrr." Was the only thing he could repeatedly try to get out.

No doubt it just sounded like a normal babes nonsensical ramblings.

Much to his surprise however, he thought it just might have worked.

"Harry? Hmmm, not bad...not too bad at all. It just feel's...right...for some reason. How about Harion?" She asked the others.

He saw his father cast a glance towards his grandmother.

"Actually, I rather like that for a nickname. It would definitely work as a casual name if he were to be named for two of the finest men my family ever produced." Rhaegar pointed out.

Unfortunately, he had no idea whom he could be referring to, but it appeared his grandmother did.

"Oh! That would be a wonderful name, My Son." The Queen replied.

"What were you thinking, Husband?" His mother inquired.

"Well, Haery could be a perfect nickname if we named him after my grandfather and the Conciliator." He replied.

His mother hmm'd again; this time sounding much more contemplative.

"Jaehaerys III Targaryen." She said; apparently testing the full name out loud.

Jaehaerys? He didn't know why, but again, somehow it just felt...right...almost natural he supposed.

"Jae! I like it!" His sister proclaimed happily.

His grandmother looked towards his mother.

"I would be honored to have my first grandson named after my beloved father; a fine and proud name that carries love and respect from all corners of the realm." The Queen told her.

His mother was silent for a moment, no doubt thinking it over as she glanced at her good-mother and her husband and step-daughter before glancing back down to her son held in his father's arms; the two looking so very much alike it warmed her heart.

"As long as I still get to call him my little Haery, then I believe Jaehaerys would be a fine name for our boy." She finally agreed.

He could see his father, grandmother, and sister all three smiling at him now.

"To my son, Jaehaerys III Targaryen!" His father proclaimed him to be in an immensely proud tone of voice.

"May I hold my little brother, Papa?" Rhaenys asked quietly.

He hesitated for a moment, no doubt due to her young age before he saw a nod from Lyanna.

"Come sit in my lap, Little Dragon." His father told her.

Once she was situated, their father gently placed him in his sister's waiting out-stretched arms. She carefully supported his head as she held him close to her. Rhaenys was staring down at him with a sweet and loving gaze. This provided him with his first real opportunity to observe his sister up close.

Rhaenys appeared to be no more than about three name days old. She was a beautiful little girl without any doubt. She had slightly tan skin that she must have inherited from her mother as their father was very pale. Her face was the picture of beauty and absolutely adorable. She had gorgeous large eyes of a piercing shade of violet identical to their father's framed by long black lashes. Even as young as she was, she had obviously high cheek-bones and a cute button nose along with full red lips. She was without doubt breathtaking.

As he lay there, he felt such an up swell of happiness and contentment.

Even his magic seemed to be almost purring in joy. He had not failed to notice that both his parent's as well as his sister had some form of magic themselves, though admittedly it was very different from his own. His magic sparked and danced around his sister especially. He felt some sort of inexorable pull with Rhaenys that was unlike anything he had ever previously felt.

Unbidden, Death's last words spoken flashed through his mind, but he dismissed that almost immediately; after all, this was his own sister.

He did not know what it was about them, but his new family seemed to be comprised of some of the most attractive men and women he had ever laid eyes on. He dearly hoped he would fit in with such a fine looking bunch as his new family appeared to be.

Wrapped in the protective embrace of his elder sister, with both of them being surrounded by their father's strong form, he felt his eye's begin to droop closed again as his exhaustion took over against his will. Within moments he found himself deep in the realm of dreams.

Harry found that as a baby, time seemed to move both incredibly slow...as well as phenomenally fast. He spent so much time sleeping, whether he wished to or not, that he had a very hard time keeping up with the events that went on around him.

Other aspects of childhood were even less pleasant in his opinion. He was constantly soiling himself for one thing. Of course he knew it was perfectly natural, but that did not stop the mortification he felt over such things. Alas, that particular issue was nothing in the embarrassment department compared to the complete and total mortification he endured while being breast-fed!

No words could describe the humiliation of such a thing no matter how normal he knew it to be. His mortification was only multiplied when he realized that he had virtually no control over it either. He nearly damned nature itself for forcing his infant self to naturally latch on to any teat in sight! It was instinctual, and it was like he couldn't even help himself; it just happened!

Truly, there were some things people just weren't meant to remember. _That_ , was most assuredly one of them.

There was one aspect of his second childhood (or first considering what he remembered of the first time could hardly be called anything approaching normal) that he actually did like. He found himself very fond of watching and listening to anything and everything around him. In doing so, he learned a very great deal about his current life and family. The more he learned, the more amazed he became of just what his new position in this world was...or rather what it was supposed to be in any case.

He was the heir to a royal family.

There was just one problem; they had recently been overthrown.

Apparently, the entire country had been embroiled in a civil war of late.

Essentially, it all boiled down to one man's jealousy: Robert Baratheon of some place called Storms End.

He had been both betrothed and obsessed with his mother, Lyanna. The problem was that Lyanna _loathed_ him; and by that, he meant she absolutely hated the man she commonly referred to as the 'Drunken Whoremonger and Lech Lord of the Stormlands'.

His father, the Crown Prince Rhaegar, was already married. They had problems of their own too, besides the fact that theirs was an arranged marriage, and the only passion that burned within the pair was that of dear friends and political allies. His father's first wife, the Princess Elia of Dorne, could no longer have any children after the birth of his sister, Rhaenys. At the time, his father was attempting to garner support to overthrow his own father King Aerys, who was apparently a complete lunatic with a fire fetish and prone to burning to death anybody that struck his fancy- be they friend or foe. Before he could overthrow the 'Mad King' as he was called, his father needed a legitimate heir.

They had faked the birth of the so-called 'Prince Aegon', but that was of course only a temporary solution.

During the Tourney of Harrenhal, his father believed he had found the answer to all of his troubles. That was when he met his mother Lyanna, and the pair of them both proceeded to fall hopelessly in love.

His mother was the only daughter of the Lord of Winterfell, and apparently the ruler of the largest of the so-called 'Seven Kingdoms'. He had heard enough to know that his parent's had approached his grandfather, Lord Rickard, and his father asked for his mother's hand in marriage. Apparently, Targaryen's had long held with some rather...peculiar...marriage practices (he tried not to think too much about exactly _how_ peculiar some of those practices turned out to be- his paternal grandparent's being a prime example). Learning that it would be his own first born grandson that would one day sit the Iron Throne (him), Lord Rickard gave the pair his blessing, and they were wed.

Before the news could spread and certain people could be informed (Robert Baratheon in particular), someone lied to his Uncle Brandon, and told him that his father had kidnapped and raped his mother. Brandon, fearful for his little sister, rushed to the capitol demanding satisfaction. His other grandfather, the Mad King, arrested him on charges of treason and sent for Lord Rickard. When he arrived, the Mad King had both his other grandfather as well as his Uncle Brandon brutally murdered. Robert Baratheon started the actual rebellion though as he believed his 'beloved' had been kidnapped and raped and was determined to bring about the fall of the entire Targaryen Dynasty and kill every last one of them; despite the fact that they were his own blood relatives.

He almost succeeded too.

It was only magic and a stroke of very good luck that his father still lived at all after his defeat on the Trident, and it had only gotten worse from there.

The Lannister army, led by a Lord Tywin Lannister, convinced his grandfather he was there to help. When the gates were opened, he then proceeded to sack the city.

His grandfather was killed (no great loss there in his opinion), and they brutally murdered and raped his stepmother and who they believed to be her children. His sister only just barely escaped the butchery when her mother had her smuggled out of the capital and sent to his own mother in Dorne.

Now, they were apparently holed up on their ancestral island of Dragonstone (He had finally figured out that all the dragon names and comments were because his family actually used to ride and control _dragons_ of all things! How awesome...not to mention terribly ironic...was that?), whilst they awaited the arrival of his mother's brother Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell.

He loved listening to his mother's tales of all her family and their life in the North. It always sounded so very amazing. He knew he would love to see it in person one day. (Imagine _snow_ in the _summer_!)

Upon his uncle's arrival, they all hoped to finalize their plan's of where exactly they should depart for temporary exile and how to ensure they were restored to their rightful throne.

Frankly, Harry found it all so very exciting, and thought it to be just like something out of a fantasy novel. He certainly had not been sent to some place dull! Though he could do without all of the rampant violence that apparently was the norm throughout this world he now found himself in.

He vividly recalled the first time he ever laid eyes on his mother's eldest surviving brother, Lord Eddard (call me Ned) Stark of Winterfell. He seemed to epitomize everything he heard his mother say of the North and its people. He was tall and trim; yet powerfully built. He had dark hair and a long face with kind icy grey eyes. He heavily resembled his mother with their mutual Stark features, though his mother's eyes were of a more stormy blue-grey hue.

He remembered how warm and kind his uncle had gazed upon his mother and himself the first time he had met him. The was a tenderness in his eye's that transformed his entire visage from his cold Northern exterior to easily reveal the warmth hidden within. He had looked upon them as if they were the most precious things in the world, and one could see clearly just how much he loved and cared about his remaining family; especially considering all those that he'd already lost. Harry would never forget the gentle look the stern lord bore when he held him for the first time. He knew his uncle was a kindred spirit with him and that he would do anything to insure the safety of his family just as Haery himself always would.

After his mother and her brother had gotten to spend enough time alone with each other for what had to have been the first time in a very long while, as well as managed to grieve for their mutual losses together, the rest of his family present had entered. During the discussion that followed, he managed to keep his eye's and ear's open long enough that he learned quite a bit of the plans they had decided upon.

On thing was certain, they had a great deal of work before them in order to make sure that the future found them in a strong enough position of power to actually have a fighting chance to regain their birthright.

From what he understood, they had decided on some place called Braavos to begin their journey into exile. He was glad he managed to remain conscious (Again he lamented just how much time a baby actually spent sleeping!) long enough to learn all he did as he was worried for his family. So many of them had already been killed, and he did not wish to lose any more. That conversation had also been rather enlightening.

They would not be going empty-handed or cap-in-hand into exile, that was for sure.

Apparently, both sides of his family had large amounts of gold hidden away in Braavos. His Uncle Ned enumerated several plans of his own that would help them to eventually retake their throne. He was also going to be sending his other uncle, (his mother's younger brother) Benjen Stark, to help them in their quest. His mother had been positively thrilled to learn of that arrangement as she dearly missed her childhood partner-in-crime as she called his Uncle Benjen.

He learned that the Targaryen Royal Family owned several residences on the neighboring continent of Essos that even his father had been unaware of. The Queen had been trained in the financial aspects of the Crown by her father and grandfather extensively in the years before the death's of Aegon V and later Jaehaerys II. They were in a much better financial position than his parent's had feared as Queen Rhaella enumerated, she had never shared that particular knowledge with King Aerys; let alone anyone else. He shuddered to think how their life would have been had his lady grandmother not been around to tell them all she knew of the Royal Family's secrets which were...apparently...vast and quite numerous.

They were also still in possession of the largest navy in Westeros.

The vast majority of the Targaryen Fleet was anchored around both Dragonstone and the neighboring island of Driftmark where they had spent the majority of the recent war in idleness. As ownership of such a fleet was their most powerful asset at the moment, it was decided that their navy _must_ be preserved at all costs.

Obviously, they could not just order the entire fleet of nearly one hundred warships and the like to raise their anchor's and join them in Braavos with the Dragon banner's of House Targaryen still flying proudly. The Usurper (as everyone called this Robert Baratheon fellow), could _never_ be allowed to find out that they had any military power remaining to them whatsoever. They'd never have a moment's peace otherwise.

Therefore, his family came up with an ingenius plan in his opinion. The fleet was to broken up into four or five sections, and every last vestige of Targaryen ownership stripped from the ships utterly. Also, large amounts of the crew were to be dismissed from active service until only skeletal crews that were the bare minimum to actually sail the ships remained. Only the most loyal and completely trustworthy of men sworn to silence would know to whom they truly owed allegiance to. Once complete, the different sections of the Royal Fleet would set sail to different parts of the so-called Free Cities of Essos under trusted leadership. There, they were to open commerce as sell-sail mercenaries and ships for hire.

That would serve numerous purposes.

For one thing, no one they did not want to know would have any idea that the Targaryen's were still a power to be reckoned with at sea. They would be able to quickly move troops and or blockade any ports needed when the time was right. They would also be able to maintain and expand the size of their fleet without the need to dip into their own funds that could be put to better use elsewhere by hiring out their navy to the many Free-Cities and their (apparently) never-ending squabbles with each other. Their crew's would also stay in top condition and fighting form with the many jobs they were likely to be purchased to sail for. Also, some of the ships could be repurposed into a trade fleet. He'd also heard them say that such a venture was likely to also produce extra gold to begin the raising and training of their own new regiment's of men to help retake their throne.

This had all been concluded as part of a deal with his uncle Lord Stark. They would open a shipping company that would begin to mass export Northern product from Stark-owned lands. A large amount of those lands were owned by his mother herself as not only part of her dowry, but also lands she inherited from her brother Brandon (though she was apparently building the capitol up to give to her niece, his cousin Elaena, as a dowry at a later date). Warships flying the Direwolf Banner's of House Stark would escort the commercial fleet that had been repurposed for that arrangement. It all had the potential to bring in large amounts of gold for both House Stark and House Targaryen.

All in all, Harry thought they not only had a viable plan for their future, but a smart one at that. After all, the more they grew their economic might, the more lords could be persuaded that they had more to gain by supporting their rightful king over the Usurper.

He knew one principle was the same no matter what world he lived in: _money talks_. That was something that was unlikely to ever change no matter where one was.

Listening to his Uncle Ned's ideas that he intended to implement when he returned to the North had been interesting. Most were the brainchild of his grandfather Lord Rickard who died before being able to see them to fruition. He was especially interested in learning about the Wildling's and the Wall.

From the brief descriptions he had managed to gleam together, the Wall sounded absolutely amazing. Not only that, but he was certain that something like that in this medieval society would never have been possible without the heavy usage of magic. It sounded as if magic had once been quite common in this world, but that for some unknown reason, it was now much more scarce. It was similar to the plight and supposed extinction of the dragons in many regards. The fact that the two seemed inter-linked, and had seemingly began to decline at the same time was not lost on him. That was definitely something he'd planned on studying up on more at a later date for it sounded rather suspicious to his mind.

Or, perhaps he was merely paranoid.

The old adage had always held true for him though: _'it was not paranoia if they really were out to get you!'_

That very night, after the highly informative and...illuminating...discussion he overheard, his grandmother the Queen went into labor.

His parent's tried their best to keep his sister and himself from overhearing what sounded to him like the untold amounts of agony his sweet lady grandmother was currently enduring, but he was more than aware nevertheless. He dearly hoped she would be alright. In the waking hours he had spent with the beautiful queen, he had grown very attached to her. Not only was Queen Rhaella one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen, she was also one of the most kind and loving to those she called family despite the fierceness he could easily see lay within her.

He had overheard enough to know that his grandfather had been horrifically abusive to his...sister-wife...and queen. That had been beyond appalling to learn. To know that after all she had suffered and endured from the Mad Dragon, and to have _finally_ escaped from his insane grasp to have the chance of freedom and a peaceful life with a family that adored her only to quite possibly die in childbed...it was beyond the pale.

He knew how dangerous childbirth could be in an era such as the one he now lived in. A great number of women and children alike succumbed to the many maladies that were possible within the birthing chambers. Something that was so simple and generally safe in his old world was fraught with dangerous peril and potentially lethal consequences in his present universe.

All the while his sweet lady grandmother was enduring the agony that was heard by all, his family had been forced to make some difficult decisions. Word had reached them from the Lord Admiral Velaryon that the Usurper's brother, their cousin Stannis Baratheon, was assembling a fleet for the invasion of the isle's of Driftmark and Dragonstone. Events were conspiring to force his family to begin to move faster than they would have liked, but it needed to be done.

They had decided that his Uncle Ned and his men (with the exception of Ser Mark Ryswell who would be joining them in their exile and likely to become a member of his father's Kingsguard), would be taking the portion of their fleet that was to be used as the basis of the new Northern Navy to make for Dorne.

The story they concocted (and the one that was to be forwarded to the Usurper), entailed his uncle finding his mother dying of a fever at the Tower of Joy where she had apparently been residing throughout much of the rebellion. After supposedly defeating and killing the three members of the Kingsguard that were known to have been placed with her, Ned had purportedly entered the Tower, only to find his mother enduring her last moments of life. Therefore, in one fell swoop, four of the highly recognizable soon-to-be exile's would be 'known' to be deceased; Ser Mark had also unfortunately succumbed during the 'fight'.

His mother's goodbye to her brother was heartrending. Neither of them had any idea of just how long it would be before they ever saw one another again; such were the times and the uncertainties all their lives were now enduring. Before he departed, his uncle had gotten down on bended knee, and sworn the fealty of himself and all of House Stark; recognizing his father as King Rhaegar I Targaryen (though he had heard his father insist that he was not to be referred to as king by anyone until he actually sat the Iron Throne). Uncle Ned swore to do his absolute best to carry out their mutual plan's to the best of his abilities, and that he would do all in his not inconsiderable power to restore his family to their rightful throne.

He had even held him, and kissed his brow in goodbye.

He wished things were not as complicated as they seemed to be as he thought he would have very much liked growing up with an uncle as good and honorable as Ned Stark around.

He was certainly a step up from Vernon Dursley in his opinion. (Admittedly, a dog off the streets would have been a better uncle than that fat walrus had ever been.)

The same day that his uncle and the portion of the fleet that was to be heading north departed from Dragonstone by way of Dorne, his grandmother finally gave birth to a little girl she name the Princess Daenerys. The baby girl was as healthy as could be, and would be called Daenerys 'Stormborn' due to the fierce storm that had begun to rage across the island that very day.

Luckily, except for the small detachment of the fleet that had remained as their escort to Braavos, the other sections of the Royal Fleet had already departed for the distant Free-Cities they had been assigned to sail towards (and were therefore out of the storm's path). Had the remaining portion of the fleet not been ordered by his father to raise their anchors in order to ride out the storm, it was highly likely they too would have gone down with the storm.

As it was, they lost three warships, but miraculously, the rest survived relatively unscathed.

Unfortunately, at the moment they were in desperate need of another such miracle as it appeared the his sweet grandmother was fading fast; the agonizingly long birth of his new aunt had almost completely destroyed the ailing Queen. She had lost a tremendous amount of blood, and they had begun to fear that she would be lost to them.

Harry refused to accept that.

He had just gained a wonderful family for the very first time that he could remember, and he was not prepared to lose any of them!

His father was especially distraught as he loved his mother dearly.

His young uncle Prince Viserys was even worse off. He had been traumatized enough during to his unstable and violent father's reign, and they all feared what the Queen's death would do to the little boy who could not be any older than six or seven name days. (Name days and turns of the moon and the like were still taking his brain quite a bit to translate and understand.)

There appeared to be no hope in sight, and the next evening his mother and father brought him to the Queen's chambers as she had summoned them with the desire to lay eyes on her grandson one last time.

He was being held in his father's arms when they entered the sickroom. Queen Rhaella was propped up on a great many pillows and looked pale as a ghost from the loss of blood. On her other side was the newborn Princess Daenerys. The Princess was an adorable looking baby from what he could see. She shared with him what he had come to realize were the trademark feature's of House Targaryen with her silver hair and violet eyes easily identifying her heritage. The tiny little girl looked so happy and content laying next to her mother; completely unaware that her only surviving parent was likely enduring her final minutes in the world.

When his grandmother reached out a pale shaking hand to caress his infant cheek with tears in her eye's, his heart broke for them all.

He could not help but to damn whatever fate's had decreed such an unjust ending of such a warm and loving woman. The ending of someone who had endured literally years of torture and agony, and who had finally found a bright light in life because of the golden sword of Ser Jaime Lannister; only to die so soon thereafter leaving a heart-broken family and two extremely young children behind.

No, it was not right at all!

When her hand gently touched his cheek when his father carefully placed him in his grandmother's trembling arms, he once again felt the faint hum of some kind of magic he could feel around all members of his father's family. (He had felt something similar around his mother and uncle as well, but somehow different at the same time.) He did not know exactly _what_ type of magic it was, only that it was quite different to his own; though he was becoming aware that he also possessed the same forms of magic as they did alongside his Wizarding power's.

Unbidden, his mind flashed to the distant memories he had of the years he had been forced to spend with his own magic healing him in order to survive the abuse his past self had endured all throughout his so-called 'childhood'.

He knew it was a latent; yet powerful form of accidental magic- _healing magic_. He most assuredly would never have survived the Dursely's cruelty and abuse otherwise. His power's thrummed with acknowledgement; almost as if his magic were... _aware_...and trying to tell him something.

He thought he knew what it meant, but was it possible?

Could he _really_ do it?

He had never before attempted such a thing. He'd never had the need to. However, his power's as a child had never been up to the level of what he was certain they were now. He did not know how, but his magic was _far_ stronger than any normal babe's power should be; even a wizarding babe. The only explanation he could come up with was that...miraculously...the powers he possessed upon his death had managed to remain with his soul and had accompanied him into his new life.

He distinctly remembered Death telling him that he would keep his magic, but he'd not thought he'd possibly have the same amount of power he possessed at age seventeen in his new infant form (not to mention the new powers he could sense). If that were true, than he may just have enough magic to at least _try_ and heal his grandmother. This was the first time he'd ever experienced having a grandmother, and he would not allow anything to separate him from his new family if he could at all help it.

Family was by far too precious a gift to lose any of them.

He had to try.

So he did.

As he lay in his grandmother's arms, he concentrated on the swirling raw magic contained within his core. It took him a moment to access his core, but he located the veritable ocean of power that lay within himself fairly easily. He had been forced to learn how to access his core when he finally decided to teach himself Occlumency as best he could. (It had come as absolutely _no_ surprise to him that Snape had not even tried to teach him correctly.) He felt his small body thrum with his magic as he immersed himself in his core and let the magic flow outward unhindered.

As his magic flowed, he began to concentrate it into his small hands.

He knew he had done it when he heard the gasps around him. His eye's were closed, but he was sure that were he to open them, both his hand's and his eye's would be glowing. He knew he had to act fast before someone removed him.

Concentrating with all his might, he forced as much of his magic as he possibly could into his ailing grandmother. He knew intent was the key to all magic, so his only thought was to _heal_ \- to... _make_... _her_... _better_!

He could feel tiny beads of sweat breaking upon his brow as he pushed his power's to work faster and more potently all throughout Rhaella's body; urging his magic to work as efficiently as possible. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard the now louder exclamations of shock...and awe...and perhaps even a hint of fear...yet he forced himself onwards. He was sure by this point that both himself, as well as his grandmother, were likely to be glowing brightly with the power of his unleashed magic; yet he was determined to persevere. He poured out all the magic he could into healing the dying woman, and when he was sure he was most likely well past the point of magical exhaustion; he stopped- not wanting to accidentally kill the both of them.

The light around him faded into nothingness, and Haery had but a second to open his violet eye's. He quickly look up into his grandmother's lighter violet gaze and saw that some of her color had indeed returned to her cheeks. It was the best he could do. He had to hope it had been enough. He did his best to give her a gummy smile, and then promptly succumbed to a rather severe case of magical exhaustion amidst the panicked shouting of his parents.

Still feeling ridiculously tired, he slowly came back to the land of awareness. The first thing he noted was that he was being held within someone's arms. Being an infant at present, this had become a quite common occurrence.

He blinked his eye's open sleepily as he attempted to stifle a yawn.

He looked up, and met the loving light violet gaze of his grandmother the Queen.

"Hello, Little Prince." Rhaella whispered down to him with a smile.

He did not sense anyone else in the room at present save them.

"You had us all so very worried, Jaehaerys. You've been sleeping for three full days, but I knew you'd come around in your own time, Little Sorcerer." She informed him.

He blinked drowsily at that.

'Three full days? He must have completely exhausted his core for him to remain unconscious for that long with as large a reserve of power as his small body held. She must have truly been on the brink of death for his magic to have been forced to exert itself so thoroughly.' He thought to himself.

"I have to thank you, My Beloved Grandson. Were it not for you and your magic, I would have not survived the night, of that I have absolutely no doubt. You completely healed me! No trace of the fever or loss of blood remained. I even look more like myself again from the times before my brother's insanity and cruelty took hold. You truly are a miracle, Little Prince. I'll never be able to thank you enough. I'll admit to you Little One, if to no one else, that I was so scared. Not for myself of course; I'd long since resigned myself to an early grave...sometimes welcomed it even." She whispered and he had the distinct impression that last sentence was spoken more to herself than to him.

"Yet, I would never have left your father, and Viserys, little Dany nor you and your sister alone; not if I could possibly help it. They still have need of me, and I so very grateful for the opportunity you and your magic granted me." The Queen whispered down to him.

She paused momentarily, and he did his best to give her a smile.

"Maybe some of Aerys' madness wore off on to me, but I would almost swear you understand far more than a child your age should." Rhaella admitted; shaking her beautiful silver head with ruefully bemused expression.

"Nonetheless, I am forever in your debt. Our family may appear to be in desperate strait's at the moment, but I for one, am delighted to be able to witness and help you all grow into the magnificent prince's you're surely destined to be...and I have a strong feeling that _you_ , my precious grandson...will be growing up to be the greatest of them all! I'm so glad Dany will have family the same age as her to grow up beside. Maybe one day I'll get some more precious grandchildren and you'll get some brother's or perhaps ever another sister, hmm? We have a whole _world_ of opportunities laid before us, and I'll do whatever I must to insure my second chance at life is _not_ wasted. Your sweet father and you _will_ be restored to your rightful throne. I will _make_ it so. Believe me, a determined Targaryen can be a very dangerous thing when they set their mind's to a task, and I am most verily determined." She swore; meaning every single word that she spoke to her infant grandson.

"I always told your father when he was growing up that the Blood of the Dragon was potent and powerful...very powerful indeed. Most do not know of it this era, but our blood is filled with magic. We were not like the majority of the Forty. We never possessed the dragonhorn's of old. No, we only had our own magic to rely upon. Whilst we may not have been the richest or the most politically powerful of the Forty; our sorcery more than made up for it. There was a reason that we maintained our position amongst the Forty for so many millennia despite our lack of resources. So much that made us what we are was lost by our submission to the Faith. I have no doubt the Dragonlord's of Old Valyria would have been turning in their grave's when we let ourselves be bound by what they would have undoubtedly considered uneducated barbarian's. Five thousand years of knowledge; lost to appease savage's. We'll need every advantage we have to reclaim the Iron Throne, and I suspect that you will have a very great deal to do with that." The Queen told him quietly.

He was totally enraptured by what his grandmother was telling him. Apparently, their family was much more aware of magic than he had thought.

"Most of us have been born with the gifts of our ancestor's to this day still; some much more than others. It's always been there, we need only to use it. You however...I know you are _far_ stronger than any of us have been in ages...perhaps since before the Doom itself! I used to study all I could in secret when I was a child myself. I've always been fascinated by sorcery. Of course my interests had to be kept hidden, without the dragons, the Faith could _never_ be allowed to know any of us even retained the _knowledge_ ; to say nothing of retaining and actually daring to _practice_ our abilities. Yet, I did just that. I studied as much as I possibly could. I vividly remember the descriptions of what some of the ancient sorcerer's were said to be capable of; so many great and wondrous feats of magic." She described; much to his own shock.

"The legends of the Dragonborn were ancient long before the Doom." She continued.

"The Dragonborn were said to be the first sorcerer's. None of the legend's say _how_ they came by their amazing abilities. They only told of what they could do. They could do such wondrous feats of magic! Everything else paled in comparison as little more than parlor trick's. However, the legend's also said that the Dragonborn would come again. They said that one day, when the last of the true blood of the Valyrian's would be in their greatest hour of need, the greatest of them all would come. He would come, and restore all that was lost. The dragons would roam the world once again, and the powers of Old Valyria would be restored by the Dragonborn; by he who was the dragon made flesh." His grandmother explained to him as he lay there positively enraptured by her tale.

She smiled down upon her grandson as she felt such a great amount of love for the little prince in her heart.

"I don't suppose you can turn into a dragon, can you, Little Prince? I suppose even as powerful as you are, that would be quite the feat indeed. Nevertheless, that is what the legends tell us the Dragonborn can accomplish. I must confess though, I would _not_ be overly surprised if somehow- you could do _exactly_ that." She raised an inquisitive silver brow.

Of course she did not expect an answer.

She was rather surprised when her small grandson begin a gurgling laugh that was more akin to giggling.

Once again, she was struck by the most ridiculous notion that despite the complete impossibility of the idea, her grandson could indeed somehow actually understand what was being said to him.

Haery himself was more than a bit stunned by the old legend his grandmother was describing to him. He felt the oddest sensation. It was almost as if the Fate's themselves were acknowledging her spoken word's as truth. For a brief moment, he felt angry.

'Why was it _always_ him?' He wondered morosely.

Then, his mind whispered that _really_? Did he expect his life to be anything different no matter what world he was in?

He would have snorted to himself in self-derision were such a feat possible.

He would _never_ be normal.

As he considered that- unlike his previous life, here he was surrounded by love and affection, and that he therefore had that much more of a reason to actually fight for them against whatever the Fate's held in store for him; maybe it was not really all that bad.

He had begun to accept that perhaps that was okay.

Normal was over-rated in any case.

 _Of course_ there would be legend's in the world that was now his own about his animagus form that was supposedly impossible in either world.

He just gave his grandmother another smile as sleep began to lull him back within it's warm embrace. He was so glad he had been successful.

His grandmother would be just fine.

He could sleep easy.

For now anyway.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter IV.**

 **Author's Note-** _Thanks to everyone who reviewed the story. I really appreciate both the effort as well as ideas. It always helps to motivate and inspire me. This is the continuation of the first chapter from Harry's POV. In this chapter there will be a time skip as Harry, Rhaenys, and Daenerys learn magic together and begin to grow up. Expect further time skip throughout their younger years until we come close to the time of the beginning of a 'Game of Thrones'._

 **Disclaimer:** I Own Nothing.

 _Jaehaerys' (Harry's) POV cont._

When he next opened his eye's and was welcomed back to the land of the living, he found himself once again held within the arm's of someone. He cracked his amethyst eye's open and smiled to see his mother's beloved face.

She immediately noticed he was now awake.

"Oh, my Little Prince is awake!" Lyanna exclaimed.

"Please, don't ever scare me like that again, My Love. I was so very worried. I know you were just helping your sweet lady grandmother, but I never wish for you to put yourself in such danger. Though admittedly, I am ever so relieved the Queen will be with us for many years to come. Why I'm admonishing you, I have no idea. I know you can't possibly understand us yet; but I swear you're far too intelligent for a normal infant. Sometimes I think you understand every word we say to you. Oh well, I'm just so happy that you both are alright. Again, _please_ try not to scare your poor mother out of her wit's like that. You'll give me grey hair's before I'm even twenty name days; won't you?" His mother asked him rhetorically; though of course she was just happy he was awake again.

She held him tighter to her.

"I love you so very much, Little Prince. Do try and not to scare your poor Mama like that again." Lyanna whispered to him.

For his mother, and the love she bore him, he vowed to try; though he made no promises mental or otherwise if any other member of their family was in danger and he knew he could help.

His thought's were interrupted when a door opened, and it sounded as if someone were hurrying towards them.

"Your Grace, My Princess; we have a guest. Prince Rhaegar asked me to inform you that...that _Stannis Baratheon_ has arrived." A servant explained quickly in a worried tone of voice.

That was the man...a cousin to them he believed...that he'd heard them say was to be leading a fleet against them! He couldn't possibly have arrived with an entire fleet and they'd somehow not noticed! That was simply impossible.

"What?" His mother gasped.

"Already? It's too soon. How large is Stannis' fleet?" Lyanna asked the anxious maid.

"No, My Princess. You misunderstand. Lord Stannis had not arrived with _any_ fleet. He did not even arrive with many men. He only brought his Ser Onion Knight with him." The serving girl elaborated.

"The god's be good. That dear boy. He hasn't forgotten." He heard his grandmother say quietly; great relief plainly evident in her tone.

"Rhaella...what? Why in the world would Robert's brother come to an island heavily defended by our most loyal men and ships with naught but a single companion? It makes no sense to me." Lyanna asked confusedly.

"If he has come for the reason I believe he has, then things are not as they appear; at least they're not for Stannis himself. You see My Dear, Stannis, Renly, and Robert's father; Lord Steffon Baratheon, was my favorite cousin growing up. Steffon was much more like a brother to me than Aerys ever was. I loved him and his mother Rhaelle dearly. When Steffon and Cassana died on that ship not even feet half a league from Storm's End itself, Stannis was still but a boy, and Renly only a babe. Robert was sent off to the Vale to foster with Jon Arryn, but Stannis and Renly still had to be looked after. At first, my Aunt Rhaelle took care of them, but she was ill and passed away barely a year later." Rhaella said as Lyanna listened on in stunned silence.

She had not been aware of any of that.

"Robert never truly considered my family his kin; not really. Oh, certainly he'd take the benefit's being a nephew and cousin to the king's brought him, but there was always something..." Rhaella trailed off as she was immersed in memory.

"It was Aerys that sent Steffon to Essos to hunt for Rhaegar a Valyrian bride. I believe...no, I _know_ that Robert blamed my entire House for the death of his parent's. I suppose he was not entirely wrong in that regard, but it was not as if Aerys forced them. He was still...relatively...sane at that time, and Steffon was his most loyal lord and cousin. He trusted him more than he trusted anyone else. I did as well. Steffon actually _volunteered_ to go. I knew a part of him blamed himself that the trip was necessary at all, as he had long hoped Cassana would be delivered of a girl. Regardless, after their death's and Aunt Rhaelle's, I did everything I could to look after Steffon's younger boy's. I had them both brought to court, and finished raising Stannis myself. When Aerys' decline began to worsen, Stannis was old enough by that point that I had them sent back to Storm's End. I did not want anything to happen to them by proximity to Aerys. When the rebellion began, I know Stannis was torn between aiding his brother and turning on what he considered the remainder of his family. He could have marched against us, but I believe he _chose_ not to; merely holding Storm's End for his brother as asked. When the Tyrell's were laying siege to Storm's End, I was the one that sent that smuggler from Flea Bottom to run the Redwyne's blockade and had provision's brought to the Baratheon defender's. It is good to know that not all of our familial ties have deserted us." Rhaella elaborated to Lyanna.

'Well, that was interesting. The Usurper's own brother was actually loyal (at least to a degree), to them.' Haery thought.

"I sometimes forget that Robert is actually your kin. Truthfully, that only makes his action's all the more reprehensible in my eye's." Lyanna said.

The Queen let out an uncharacteristic snort at his mother's statement.

"Robert Baratheon would rather give up both his whore's and his drink before claiming _any_ of us as kin; no matter that it is the _only_ reason he even had a chance to usurp the Iron Throne." Rhaella declared correctly.

His mother laughed.

"His drink perhaps, I doubt anything could make him part with his whore's though." She declared derisively.

His grandmother joined Lyanna's laughter then.

"You may actually be right about that. He does love them so. He's not even twenty name day's, and he likely already has more bastards than I have finger's to count them on." The Queen decreed.

The door opened once again a moment later.

This time it was his father who entered.

"Mother, Lya; you were told that Cousin Stannis had arrived, yes?" Rhaegar asked.

"Yes, My Son. Daena informed us. She also informed us that he arrived with only the Onion Knight in attendance. Has he come for the reason I believe?" The Queen asked.

"If you thought that he came to warn us of the impending attack, then surprisingly enough; you are indeed correct, Mother. It seems as if at least one of our kin has retained the knowledge that we are exactly that; kin." Rhaegar confirmed.

"Then I am glad. Have you spoken with him yourself?" Rhaella asked.

"Yes, I saw no other way around it. To say he was surprised to see me still walking amongst the living was an understatement. I explained what I could to him. He begs leave to speak with Your Grace in person though. He would also like to see Lyanna as well, if for no other reason than to assuage his own mind concerning myself and our action's." Rhaegar explained.

There was no hesitation in his grandmother's voice when she next spoke.

"Send him in then. It would not do to keep him waiting, Dear." Rhaella agreed.

"You are certain, Mother?" His father asked; likely needing it to be confirmed for him that his mother trusted their cousin.

"Certainly." The Queen replied.

"Alright, I shall return with Lord Stannis quickly." Rhaegar said before leaving back the way he had come moment's before.

The Queen placed her hand on top of Lyanna's.

"Worry not, Sweet Girl. Stannis is _not_ Robert. Frankly, I don't believe you could find any three brother's that were more dissimilar to one another. Stannis can be cold and he can be rigid, but he's a good boy. He's always been family to me." The Queen said reassuringly to his mother.

He would admit himself curious about the newcomer cousin whom was brother to the Usurper; yet apparently remained loyal to the Dragon's.

Not long after, his father re-entered the room with another tall man beside him.

Besides their shared height, there were no other similarities to be seen between the two cousin's.

Stannis Baratheon appeared to be around maybe nineteen namedays, with short black hair that looked to be slightly thinning on the top even at such a young age; a sign of impending hair loss no doubt. He was powerfully built (despite his still somewhat gaunt appearance that was undoubtedly a result of the long siege), and had stormy blue eye's, a short-cropped black beard, and a rather severe expression. All in all, he was not especially handsome, nor was he especially plain. Were it not for his height and strong build, he'd likely be easy to blend into the background. His stern visage did soften some when his eye's landed on Queen Rhaella, whom even he could tell the man must have held in very high regard.

The Queen smiled welcomingly at the young man.

"Cousin, I am most pleased to see you alive and well. Though I do admit to being surprised by your visit. Please, do take a seat, Stannis." The Queen welcomed graciously.

A servant brought two extra chair's near to the bed for his father and Lord Stannis.

The stern young man slowly approached, and before sitting, he got down on bended knee and bowed to Queen Rhaella.

"My Queen, I am glad to see Your Grace fairing so well after the birth of your daughter. Also, on behalf of the... _true_...member's of House Baratheon, I offer my deepest thanks for your action's in sending Ser Davos to aid my younger brother and myself during the siege. We would not have survived without your aid, and I shall be forever in your debt. I also wish to apologize for the treason's committed by my foolish elder sibling. His greed and lust's apparently know no bounds. Even I could tell the Princess Lyanna held no favor with him, but he cared not." Stannis said solemnly with his head still bowed.

Queen Rhaella reached out, and placed a firm hand atop Stannis' thinning head.

"We are kin, and few enough as it is; especially in these times. I could not allow any ill to befall Steffon's sons if I were able to prevent it. You are most welcome, Cousin. Also, neither you nor Renly have committed any sin's against our family. You are blameless of your brother's misguided actions, so be at peace." Rhaella said softly.

Stannis seemed to let out a breath of relief at the Queen's words.

"Thank you, Your Grace." Stannis said; taking his seat next to Rhaegar (who he was still occasionally looking towards as if he could not quite believe his own eye's; such was his surprise that he yet lived).

"Your Grace's, I had to come and warn you. Robert's wrath knows no bounds where any member of the Targaryen Dynasty is concerned; not even towards yourself, Your Grace. He has ordered me to take the hastily assembled fleet from the capital, and lay siege to Dragonstone. He means to see you all dead." Stannis informed them.

"Yes, we are aware." Lyanna told him.

"Of course he has no idea that the Crown Prince nor the Crown Princess are even alive. He just received a raven from Lord Stark reporting your demise, My Princess in Dorne. A planned event I presume?" Stannis asked.

"Indeed. We thought it best if he believed both Lyanna and myself, as well as the Kingsguard were all thought to be dead. We hoped his hunt would be less...determined...if Viserys, Daenerys, and Mother were the only ones he believed to be left alive, Cousin." Rhaegar explained.

Stannis appeared to be lost in thought for a moment before he replied.

"You are likely correct in that assumption, though he will still pursue those he knows remain alive. I believe it has become his own form of madness in him...the look in his eye's and the amount of rage visible anytime the name Targaryen is even mentioned...it is _far_ from healthy. You _must_ depart as soon as possible. I've delayed the fleet as long as I dare without raising his suspicion's of me further, but I dare not tarry much longer." Stannis informed them nervously.

It was obvious he did not like what his brother was forcing upon him.

"Have no fear, we shall be departing on the morrow." The Queen told him.

Stannis' shoulders sagged in relief at hearing that bit of news.

"Excellent. Will you be safe though? We heard tell that most of the fleet was destroyed by the recent storm?" He asked cautiously.

"You heard what we wished for everyone to believe. The vast majority of the Royal Navy sailed for Essos, Dorne, and the North well before the storm arrived. What was left managed to survive mostly unscathed." Rhaegar told him.

"Good, then you are not defenseless. Considering your presence here, and the story your brother concocted, am I to assume you have the loyalty of House Stark? Stannis inquired.

The adults all looked at one another, before they silently allowed Rhaegar to make the decision of whether or not to tell Stannis the full truth. Rhaegar looked him straight in the eyes.

"Are you still loyal to our family, Cousin?" Rhaegar asked with a question of his own.

Surprisingly, Stannis did not hesitate.

"Knowing what I do now of the true circumstances that led to the Rebellion, as well as the fact that Her Grace has always been the closest thing to a parent Renly or I had after our own parent's death; yes. I am unequivocally loyal to the True King and the Royal Family. Myself and mine heir's will always be loyal to Your Grace's." Stannis stated with an absolute voice of certainty that was easily heard by all present.

Impressed, despite himself by his younger cousin's loyalty, Rhaegar gave the Stormlord full disclosure of their plans. He held back virtually nothing. When he completed his detailed explanation to Stannis, the Usurper's brother was not only shocked, but visibly impressed.

So impressed was he, that once again got down on bended knee, only this time he was kneeling before the Crown Prince.

"Here and now I, Stannis of the House Baratheon, eldest remaining _loyal_ son and heir of Lord Steffon Baratheon of Storm's End and the Lady Cassana of House Estermont, do swear my fealty and that of the House Baratheon to my cousin and recognize him and his heir's now and for all of time as Rhaegar I Targaryen, First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm; the One True King." Stannis swore.

His father appeared to be momentarily stunned by their cousin's show of fealty.

Gathering himself, he was quick to reply.

"Rise, Lord Stannis. I thank you for both your loyalty and your fealty, Cousin. Let the Blood of the Dragon be always united as one as we are in this and in all things to come." Rhaegar intoned solemnly in a voice of iron.

"When you hath need of them, my life and my sword shall be at your service, Your Grace." Stannis told them.

"Thank you, My Boy. I know that none of this could possibly be easy for you." Rhaella told him quietly.

Stannis shook his head.

"My brother has no right to the Iron Throne, not whilst you all still live. Especially not now, and I am no kinslayer. He will make a terrible king. He'll never inspire loyalty, and will only cause further strife. All he knows is war. That's all he's good at besides drinking and whoring. Already corruption is rife within the capital and the court, and it will only get worse now that he's to take Cersei Lannister to wife. Tywin Lannister is a demon. No man with an ounce of honor would align themselves with that treacherous snake in lion's clothing. Fearing my influence, that devil has already convinced Robert to name _Renly_ as the new Lord Paramount of the Stormlands and Lord of Storm's End." Stannis surprised them by saying; the bitterness in his tone was evident to all.

"What? But you're the eldest brother? With Robert seating the Iron Throne, however unlawfully, _you_ are the rightful Lord of Storm's End!" The Queen stated fiercely.

Stannis grimaced and grit his teeth.

His fury was clearly audible to them all.

"Indeed, Your Grace." Was his only reply.

It was obvious that Rhaegar did not like that at all, nor did he like the news that Robert was to wed that vindictive bitch Cersei Lannister.

"Cousin, I swear to you, when we are returned, you shall be restored as the rightful Lord of Storm's End and Lord Paramount of the Stormlands. Robert was foolish to take your birthright from you; very foolish indeed." Rhaegar promised.

Stannis' eyes widened at that statement.

"Th...Thank you, Your Grace. Truly." Stannis said with a deep bow of his head.

Harry privately wondered why the young Stormlord sounded so surprised that his father promised him his own rightful inheritance. It was as if he was shocked that anyone would even care about his own needs; making him wonder just what type of family life the younger Baratheon brother had led. Clearly, it was apparent that with the exception of his lady grandmother, no one else seemed to have taken much of an interest in the middle Baratheon brother.

Considering the fact that they were basically the only relatives remotely close to the ruling dynasty, such a thing was odd to him to say the least.

"I swear I shall do all I can to prove your faith in me as warranted." Stannis swore.

"You said Robert's made you Master of Ship's?" Rhaegar inquired curiously.

"Yes, Your Grace, he has indeed." He confirmed.

"While I believe you would be better suited to the position of Master of Laws, you are undoubtedly one of the few worthy of that position as well. When we return, between your control of the navy and our own fleet, there is no fleet or combination of them that would be able to stand against us. I only ask that you keep them in top shape as I have no idea how long it shall take us to accumulate the necessary forces to combat Robert and his allies." Rhaegar said.

"I shall do so, Your Grace. I will also be able to rally at least _some_ of the Stormlords when the time comes, and I expect the lord's formerly sworn to Summerhall shall always answer the Dragon's call to arms. I am to be given liege over Dragonstone and the Narrow Sea, and of course I expect they will remain loyal to the death; especially with all of us working towards Your Grace's restoration. With the full might of the North and Dorne as well as what forces Your Grace can build in the East together with the remaining loyalists, I believe we will succeed. Hopefully it will be _before_ my brother has the chance to completely run the Seven Kingdom's into the ground." Stannis extolled.

"We thank you, Cousin." Rhaegar told him sincerely.

"By your leave, I believe I should return to the mainland, Your Grace's. I'm sure you have your own preparations to attend to." Stannis said.

Rhaegar nodded and they both stood and shook hands.

The Queen touched Lord Stannis' hand.

"Thank you, again Stannis. Be sure to take care of yourself." She told him softly.

The stern Stormlord actually smiled slightly at the Queen; something Haery had a suspicion was a rare occurrence.

"You as well, Your Grace. And again, I am forever in your debt." Stannis replied kissing the back of her hand.

He then moved to do the same to Lyanna before he and his father left the room once more.

Despite the surprisingly pleasing turn of event's, he could barely keep his eye's open any longer.

His mother watched him quietly.

"Sleep, my Little Prince. Mama's got you." Lyanna said.

It still amazed him when words like that were directed at him.

It took little more effort, and he was once again in the sweet embrace of dreams.

When he next awoke, it appeared as if the preparations for their departure to exile were well underway.

Soldier's and loyal servants scurried about in ever increasing numbers as possessions and valuables both sentimental and otherwise were taken to the harbor waiting to board the ships.

He tried to stay as quiet as possible, not wanting to disturb anyone from their obviously important tasks.

He assumed the newborn little Princess Daenerys was in the other crib near to his own, and his sister Rhaenys the only one in the room with them at the moment.

"Hello, Little Brother!" Rhaenys chirped cheerfully to him; seeing him awake and looking around at all the noise.

"We'll be leaving Dragonstone soon. Don't worry though; I'll always be here to watch out for you. When you get bigger, I promise we'll always watch out for each other. You're my only brother, and I'll make sure nothing ever happens to you. I won't lose any more of our family." Rhaenys swore to him.

He was certain his sweet sister must have been thinking of her own poor mother who had been murdered. He felt so bad for his sister. This was the first time he had ever had a sibling, and he already loved her fiercely. She was such a sweet girl.

Harry vowed that he too would always watch over and protect his sister from anything and everything. He was determined to be a good brother. The thought of anyone hurting such a sweet little girl as his sister made him boil with anger. That anyone could even contemplate doing such a thing was an atrocity. He'd never let her be harmed if he could prevent it. He felt an inexplicable bond with Rhaenys that was soothing and filled him with unexpected warmth. He did not know if this was normal, or if it was something that was there because of their magic. He could tell his sister was very strong in whatever type of power it was that his father's family wielded.

Sorcery, his grandmother had called it.

He dearly hoped that time would go by quickly. He was quite looking forward to exploring this new type of magic with his family and his sister especially.

Actually, he hope he grew quickly regardless. He really did not care too much for being an infant, and would be eternally grateful when he could actually begin to formulate coherent words.

Together, the siblings waited, and soon enough it was time to board the ship that was to take them away from Westeros and everything anyone here had ever known.

Thanks to Haery's magic, the Queen had recovered enough that she was able to walk around unaided by then. She had the little Princess Daenerys held securely in her arms whilst his uncle Prince Viserys held her hand and followed the procession to the docks. His sister Rhaenys was in the arms of their father, and Harry himself was being held by his mother as they too made their way towards the waiting ship's.

When they arrived, he noted that the ships that were going with them to some place called Braavos were no longer flying the red three-headed dragon banners he commonly saw all around the castle; instead they bore the banners of a seahorse. The ship they were to sail on was larger than he had been expecting to make such a voyage.

Personally, he was excited.

He had never before even seen the ocean, let alone gone sailing. It was an entirely new experience for him. He had a suspicion that he would be having a great many thoroughly new experiences in the potentially danger-ridden life that awaited them. Of course that particular aspect of their life would not exactly be new to him. He had lived a life riddled with all types of danger as the Boy-Who-Lived to say nothing of his life with the Muggles.

How he still somehow managed to loathe the title of 'Boy-Who-Lived' even with virtually no emotion to connect his past life to this one; he knew not. Though he thought it was telling enough that he did. He had high hope's that this life he would be known for himself; be known by his own merits and failures alike. Being a prince in this world, he knew would of course come with certain expectations, but at least not of the kind he'd endured in his life as a wizard.

So, as he lay securely in his mother's embrace, and watched as the shoreline of their ancestral castle of Dragonstone began to recede from the horizon as they entered the open waters of the so-called Narrow Sea; Haery held hope deep within his chest. For the first time in his memory, he had a family that loved him, and that he dearly loved in return. His family's throne and all their hope's may lie in the opposite direction of their destination, but he would make certain they persevered. He would use every asset at his disposal if he had to; including his magic. He would allow no threat to his loved one's to remain, even if he had to kill to do so. They would be safe, and they would be happy.

He would make it so.

One day, they would return. They would return, and all who betrayed them would pay. They would return, and the Dragon Banner's would fly once more as a new age dawned in the Seven Kingdom's of Westeros and beyond.

After all; Voldemort had at least been right about one thing: Magic _Was_ Might!

Six Years Later

Braavos- 289 AL.

Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen

It was late out; that much he knew. The night was dark and the manse had long since gone silent. Even the servants had retired by this hour. Knowing now was as good a time as any, Haery crept out of his comfortable feather bed as silently as possible, and made to sit beside the firelit hearth in his chambers. Ever since arriving in this world, he had ever been comfortable with fire, and for some reason he had yet to completely determine, it seemed to be a great help to his magic. For that is what he was up to; trying his best to regain the power and control he remembered the previous incarnation of himself could wield.

Each night, since he was three name days now, he had snuck out of his warm bed, and worked himself as much as possible in exercising his powers. It was slow going, that was for sure. Sometimes he would get so frustrated at exactly how long it was taking him that he felt like screaming, and he wondered if he would ever be able to work magic anything approaching what he had been used to. While he of course did not have a wand of any kind (and was frankly not certain if it was even possible to make one considering the lack of magical creatures and plant's in this world), his own magick's were by far stronger than anything he'd had access to in his past.

It was for that reason that he was certain that he should at least be capable of a decent amount of wandless magic; at least he dearly hoped so. His progress had been admittedly poor with only small advances over time that to him seemed to take an age to master what had previously been considered the simplest of spells.

Since coming to this world, nothing else in his life had been as difficult as practicing his magic. He would admit (if only to himself), that perhaps he had become just a touch of what that potion's professor...Snape...he thought he had been called...had always referred to him as: arrogant.

( _It seemed that the longer he went without feeling the emotion's his memories implied he should feel, the more of his past life became hazy. He didn't forget it...per say, so much as his real life now was filled with so many emotions that it always took far greater precedence within the structure of his mind_.)

He did not truly mean to be, and he really did try his absolute hardest to make certain that he was still a nice and generally easy-going and approachable young boy, but it was almost hard not to be at least a _bit_ arrogant when he was so very good at the number of things he was supposed to learn.

Compared to most people in this feudal-age world, he was considered something of a prodigy; even more so than his father had been (and that was really saying something). Of course learning from his tutor's was easy enough for him. He already knew most of the things he was being taught. He had also spent his infancy observing and reflecting on the world around him. There was certainly little else to do at that age. Considering he could remember everything from nearly the second of his birth, it was hard not to appear so far beyond the norm in intelligence.

It wasn't just book learning that he surpassed even the highest of his family's and tutor's expectations of him, he was also adept at his other lesson's. He found that all the years he had spent dodging spells and punches as well as chasing snitch's had left him with such superb reflexes that he was able to advance in his weapon's training far quicker than nearly any other child his age should possibly be able to. Although he lacked the strength to truly master a blade, he knew it would all come in good time.

Thinking of his weapon's training, he had never felt so very much alive and exhilarated as when he was practicing with a sword in his hands. His usual trainer's were Ser Arthur Dayne, Ser Jaime Lannister, and his father; all three of which had very different styles of fighting from which he took different aspects of each to begin to form a style of combat that was not only unique, but one that was all his own.

His father was a man he all but idolized; this he knew.

He'd never had parent's that he could remember before, so the whole experience was new to him. He absolutely loved it. Having someone that was always there for him no matter what, and was never too busy to take the time out of their day to show concern for him or even to just ask how his day was going; was a completely novel experience. His father was brilliant in his own right, and he always took the time to teach Haery all he could.

Together, Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark were amazing parents. He prayed to the god's of his mother (the only one's he held any respect for) that one day he could be half the man his father was. Sometimes the love and concern his parent's showered him and his sibling's with amazed him so that he would occasionally have to pinch himself just to make certain it was all real and not some fantastical figment of an over-active imagination.

His father was both the perfect warrior as well as an accomplished scholar.

Haery thought he'd make an remarkable king when the time came for them to take back their family's throne. There was one trait that was shared by both his parent's that he thought would mark them down in the history of this world as exceptional: compassion. Unlike so many royals and nobles in the world, Rhaegar and Lyanna actually considered the effects their action's could have on what was called the 'small-folk' here. Even at his young age, he had already seen too many people all but enslaved, and he knew that there were large area's of Essos that held millions of actual slaves.

Such a thing was abhorrent to him and the morals and values he was being raised with.

His parent's taught him that as nobility, it was their job to look after and protect those less fortunate than themselves; that it was all of their duty. They taught him that as a prince or a king, they derived their power from the people they ruled over, and that if they were unjust or cruel, than they had no right to rule.

As an example, the tyrannical reign of his mad grandfather was explained along with the consequences that his cruelty had left for his family to try and make amends for.

One thing was certain, his father shared absolutely no similarities with his own mad father.

Rhaegar Targaryen was the kindest and most honorable man the Haery knew. One he was very proud to call his father. Haery knew there was no one better suited to rule the Seven Kingdom's than him. That was what he had privately declared his main goal in this life to be. He would see to it that the people of Westeros got the ruler they deserved in the form of his father no matter what he had to do.

Which is what lead to his current position of meditating in front of the fireplace and attempting to access his magical core.

One year ago, for his fifth name day, Haery had received an anonymous gift.

The gift was in the form of a particularly ancient set of scroll's that in essence formed what he would describe as a 'how-to' book. It was an amazing compendium of knowledge. Essentially, it was a how-to guide to the secrets of the Ancient Valyrian's; his own ancestor's.

He was forcefully reminded of them every time he looked at his reflection and saw his own near-otherworldly look's with his fine silver blonde hair and deep violet eye's that were such a marked contrast to his previous life.

He was pretty damnit!

And he was still not too sure whether or not he liked it.

His father and grandmother both had been even more awed by the gift than he had as they had quickly realized the absolute treasure trove of knowledge contained within.

The knowledge gifted to him may have come from an 'anonymous' source, however he had his own suspicion's as to whom had gifted him with such a priceless treasure.

Several month's ago, some of their ship's that were patrolling in the Narrow Sea had come upon a ship that was stranded due to the many death's from some sort of plague that had overcome the crew. The only man aboard the vessel that still seemed to be of good health had shocked them all; it was none other than Gerion Lannister- youngest brother of Lord Tywin Lannister himself!

After bringing the man to safety, Lord Gerion had been shocked himself to find his missing nephew Ser Jaime Lannister happily living with the exiled Targaryen Royal Family.

Three year's past, Ser Jaime had been officially released from the Kingsguard by his father to wed his cousin Elaena's mother and his mentor's sister, the Lady Ashara Dayne of Starfall.

He'd always referred to her as Aunt Ashara due to her secret marriage to his late uncle Lord Brandon Stark of Winterfell. After her marriage to Ser Jaime, (who had always been an especial favorite of his and one of his mentor's) he had become known in the family as Uncle Jaime. His father had declared Lord Tywin's life forfeit and had named Ser Jaime as the new Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West-in-exile. Lord Gerion, who (along with their brother Tygett) privately loathed Lord Tywin and his nefarious action's, had been more than pleased to remain with the true Royal Family. He had declared for them, and now lived with his nephew and Aunt Ashara and their twin's, Jayson and Jaynei and his cousin Elaena. (They would soon be joined by Lord Gerion's natural daughter Joy Hill as well.)

Gerion had let the rest of the world think that he'd failed in his quest to find the ruin's of Old Valyria and had perished somewhere in the Smoking Sea.

In truth, he had been more than successful; having not only sought out _and found_ Brightroar (which he immediately gifted to Uncle Jaime much to the younger Lannister's awe), but had also found many other treasure's from the lost civilization. The value of the wealth of knowledge and artifacts Lord Gerion had discovered was truly incalculable.

He could not think of anyone else that would have had any access to such wondrous and rare works that he'd been gifted with except Lord Gerion. Who, Haery had to admit was easily one of the nicest and most laid-back and humorous men he'd ever met. It was impossible to be sad in that man's presence. He also greatly reminded Haery of the memories he held of his past godfather Sirius with his easy smile's and charming arrogance.

Not only did it contain the contents of many spells and rituals of Valyrian Sorcery, it finally answered the question that had been burning in the minds of the Targaryen's for well over one hundred year's now: _how to hatch the egg's of a dragon_!

His family had led so many failed attempts to hatch their remaining dragon egg's that it had all culminated on the actual day of his father's birth with the Tragedy of Summerhall which still tore at the heart of his beloved grandmother to that very day. The auspicious day of his father's birth had also heralded the death's of almost the entirety of the Targaryen Dynasty.

After pouring over the scrolls, he had eventually found a magically hidden portion of the writings.

It had taken him many days to figure out how to reveal what he somehow just _knew_ to be more knowledge and the secrets hidden within, but he finally managed it. Once revealed, it had led to both a great deal of private excitement on Haery's part, as well as some degree of sadness from his father and grandmother.

It all boiled down to the lost revelation that it took the fire of an _actual_ dragon to warm the eggs enough to hatch! Not even substituting dragon fire for wildfyre would work.

Over the years, many had attempted using fire to hatch the eggs, up to and including using the highly volatile substance known as wildfyre. Wildfyre was quite similar to traditional dragonfire in many respects, but apparently it was not enough.

Haery speculated that it was the magical quality of the dragonfire from the magic of the dragon's themselves that was required to hatch the eggs.

In the past, later generation's of House Targaryen had likely not realized that fact due to the eggs hatching naturally by themselves without any outside interference from them. After the frankly (to him anyway) suspicious death of the last dragon (a small and deformed thing that was nothing like a natural dragon should be and that he thought wreaked of magical sabotage), none of the remaining eggs had ever been able to be hatched because they lacked an _actual_ dragon breathing fire over them during the incubation process.

His father and grandmother had accepted the written words from the scrolls as the death knell of the last of the lingering hopes all Targaryen's generally bore to one day see the resurrection of the winged reptiles their family was made famous for.

He, however, knew differently.

There was still a possibility (however remote it may seem) that they could one day hatch the remaining eggs in their possession. (They had ten eggs remaining that Queen Rhaella had managed to keep hidden from both any member of the Faith of the Seven or the Citadel, and especially her brother King Aerys.)

The reason was simple, and only partially known to two others.

In his last life, Haery had an animagus form that had never before been seen or thought to have been remotely possible- he was a dragon animagus!

In his old universe, no wizard or witch since Merlin himself had possessed an animagus form of a magical creature. It went against all the established laws of magic. So, naturally of course being Harry Potter, he had to go and break every single one of those laws.

He had the form of an extremely large blood red dragon with black wings of unknown species; or, at least it was a species no one in _that_ world could identify. Dragons simply did not grow as large as what his form was in that time. It had been that fact more than any other that made him believe perhaps Death spoke truth when he was told his current life and world was where he'd been meant to belong all along.

He had been positively thrilled when he learned that all he had to do was turn in to his animagus form, and breathe fire on their egg's. He hypothesized that it would take around one full turn of the moon to properly warm the hatchlings within his form's natural magical dragonflame, and they could hatch all the dragons they'd ever need or want!

It had been perfect, he thought.

Indeed, it had been too perfect.

That night, he had immediately snuck out of his bed, and the first thing he did was try to turn in to his dragon form.

Unfortunately, he had no such luck.

Of course, he should have suspected. That would have just been _far_ too easy.

The problem that he faced, was that he could not transform.

He had been heart-broken, and had even begun to suspect that he might no longer even have an animagus form at all due to the change in his magic.

However, there was still light to be found at the end of the tunnel.

He discovered that light when he was desperately trying to transform himself, and he had actually managed to turn his left hand in to a single, solitary, sharp and undeniably draconic claw.

It was then that he realized what the problem was.

He may have held all the same memories as Harry Potter, but he was still a fundamentally different person in nearly every other respect.

He suspected that those difference's went right down to his very soul, at least to a degree; which was an important factor in the animagus transformation due to the soul being the determining factor of an one's animagus form. He knew then that he would be forced to undergo the entire transformation process...all...over...again.

His body simply did not have any of the muscle memory his old form had possessed.

His first and most mature thought, was that it sucked! Like seriously sucked, as he would have to painstakingly go through all the exercises to once again fully transform which could take the god's only knew how long.

Regardless of the god's awful amount of time and energy he knew it would take to complete, Haery had persevered and become determined. The potential benefits to his entire family were far too numerous to ignore. Once complete, it would only be a matter of time until his family was back in Kings Landing with his father seating the Iron Throne.

After all, whom would dare to defy the might of a dragon. Well, besides the Dornish at least, but they were thankfully already allied to them.

So, each night he set himself to the task of completing the animagus transformation for the second time in his memory.

One would think that it would be easier the second time around.

One would be incorrect.

Night, after night, after night; Haery practiced till the point of both mental and physical exhaustion. Unfortunately, it seemed he was barely making a dent in his effort's to finish the transformation. He had wracked his brain for an explanation, and the only thing he found that was remotely plausible was the noticeable difference in his magic. Not only was his magic untrained in this world, it had also been fundamentally altered on a primal level.

He had his Wizarding power's to the same extent as always (a greater amount of power actually), but he also had the addition of his Valyrian magick's that was vastly different in a great many respects to what he was used to. The new magic was not necessarily incompatible with his Wizarding power's, but they did require a different approach to control them.

After month's of fruitless labor, he eventually discovered two methods that allowed him forcefully blend his new Valyrian magic together with his Wizarding. One, was the concentration of fire.

All Targaryen's generally had some Valyrian magic that was innate to their bodies to a greater or lesser degree. Most of those abilities were related one way or another to fire. He could make large balls of flame's from the tiniest of spark's, all the way to creating an inferno of fire as well as wind if he so desired. He knew there were many other aspects to it, but fire manipulation was the easiest for him and the one he concentrated on the most. If he stared into a lit hearth long enough, he could relax the Valyrian magic to enough of a degree that it was then possible for him to blend it together with his innate Wizarding core. Otherwise the two forms of magic seemed to fight for dominance against one another; rendering him unable to properly control either of them.

That, he had discovered, was what state he needed to be in to be successful.

Without the blending of the two forms of his magic into one larger mass of controllable power, it was as if he had a block, or a cage of some sort locked on and around his magic. It was exceedingly frustrating.

That particular method also took the longest amount of time for him to reach the state necessary to begin transforming various parts of his body into his animagus form.

It was the second method that was the easiest and by far the more preferable he had discovered: magical sharing.

'Coven Magicks', he had termed it.

By using that form, that he had discovered late one night entirely by accident, he had been able force his two type's of magic to blend together fully and seamlessly without much conscious effort on his part.

He had been amazed by the vast and varied possibilities which thought just might be truly limitless.

It was late one night several moon's ago, and he had been staring into the flames attempting to reach the state of cooperation between his magick's that was needed to practice correctly. He had just managed to transform both of his hands at the same time into dragon claws when two gasps of shock met his ear's.

He had whipped his head around and stared in mute surprise at his two best friends and most beloved relatives: his half-sister Rhaenys and his young aunt Daenerys.

He had been completely stunned, and unsure what to do. He could not believe he had not heard them enter his rooms. He must have been too focused on his transformation to notice. He knew it was storming outside, and like an idiot, he had forgotten that nine times out of ten, both Rhaenys and Dany would crawl in bed with him so they would sleep more soundly.

He had been closest to the both of them all of his life. When he was still a toddler, he had looked up to Rhaenys and she had always made him feel safe and secure. As they got older, their role's began to reverse somewhat as he was extremely protective of his big sister. She had always been there for him, and he had been the most important person in her world since the day he was born.

She once told him that she had sworn the day he was born that she would always be there to watch over him and that she would never allow anything to happen to him like had happened to her mother. She was close to their father of course, and Haery's mother Lyanna was really the only mother she knew as she could barely remember the Princess Elia, but it had always been _him_ she was closest to.

He felt exactly the same.

He'd always felt an inexplicable bond to Rhaenys all his life. He was never so comfortable and happy lest she was there to share it. For a long time, he had thought it was just the effects of actually having a sibling at all; seeing as he'd never had anything to compare it to.

However, when Aelyx and then Valarr and Vaelerie were born, although he could honestly say that he loved all his younger siblings dearly- adored them most of the time even; he still loved Rhaenys the best. It was not something that he could change or alter in any way; it just _was_.

Inexplicably, it was the same with Daenerys too.

Whereas Rhaenys was somebody that was protective and watched over him, _he_ was extremely protective of Dany all their lives. One would think that you would love or care for one at least a small bit more or less than the other, however where the two of them were concerned, that had never been the case. He adored both of them; just as they both clearly adored him.

He had never felt so very blessed as he did when the three of them were together and happy, and his love for them was truly limitless.

There was nothing he would not do to make certain they were both safe and happy _always_.

For as long as he could remember in this life, it had been the three of them together; never far apart. Where one went, the others were sure to follow. His younger sibling's had each other, and Rhaenys, Dany, and himself were another trio. It vaguely reminded him of another time and place with two others near constantly by his side, but the bonds he felt with Rhaenys and Dany far surpassed anything in his previous life. They were unbreakable; of that he was absolutely certain.

Dany was like a little sister to Rhaenys, and she worshipped his older sister just as much as he did. Just as Rhaenys was protective of him, so too was she of Dany. He knew they were only children, but he could not imagine life without them. He had thought he'd known the meaning of true friendship before in his past. Compared to the overwhelming amount of love and care he held for his two she-dragon's; he would easily admit- _he knew nothing_.

For some reason, that happened to be a favorite saying of both of his she-dragon's, and something they were oft fond of reminding him of.

'So he'd not grow too big of a head.' They said.

He should have remembered not only how inquisitive the both of them were, but also just how uncommonly bright they were.

When they had discovered his clawed self that later rainy night, they had forced him to confess exactly what he was up to as well as what else he could do. He eventually told them that he just _saw_ things; things not from this world. The reason for that explanation was because he quite literally _could not_ speak of his old life. The words would literally not form from his mouth no matter how hard he tried. He couldn't even write it down!

He supposed it was some sort of restriction that had been placed upon him by the 'powers at be'. (The Royal Bitch named Fate and his ole' pal Death of course being his prime suspect's.)

He had no problems telling them all about his magic, which apparently both of them had been suspicious about for a while due to numerous incidents in the past. He told them all about seeing himself turning into a dragon.

Now, while normally that would merely have been a sign that the great metaphorical Targaryen 'coin toss' had landed on the wrong side with him, the fact that he said so while _actually_ having his hands transformed into _literal claws_ put things in an entirely different perspective.

So, like everything else about each other that was in any way different from what was considered 'the norm'; they accepted it and him with ease unconditionally.

It was Rhaenys, smart girl that she was, that suddenly remembered the part in the scrolls about dragonfire and how that could make the eggs hatch. Dany caught on moments later. Their excitement of just what that could mean for all of them had been palpable.

After that night, they both began to sneak into his room at night to help him practice.

It was then that they all noticed something inexplicable.

When he began to concentrate on his power's, both Rhaenys and Dany could _feel_ it. He already knew they had some powers of their own, just not how much. He had thought he'd wait till they were all older before he began to try and teach them himself what magic they were capable of. Their word's surprised him though. More than that, they said their own energy level's suddenly felt like they were fit to burst.

Working on a hunch, he had them try a few of the simpler Valyrian fire spells.

To his shock, their power levels were massively higher when they were all three together. It also had the marvelous added side effect of making it much... _much_...easier on him to blend his own magical power's to the point he could begin to attempt shifting into his animagus form _far_ faster.

He had been ecstatic. Finally, a breakthrough!

As such, he was in no way surprised when heard his door creak open, and soon felt one arm hug him on his left (Rhaenys of course), while another arm hugged him on his right (Dany in her usual spot).

He did not speak; no words were necessary. They just sat beside him as he quickly went about his now familiar routine with his best friend's, helpmeet's, and magical partner's-in-crime on either side of him balancing his magic for him.

He was close, he knew that; so close he could almost taste the dragonfire.

He concentrated with all his might as he slowly began to shift, one limb at a time. It was tiring- exhaustingly so. It was also painful in the extreme.

However, in the end, it was all well worth it.

Sweat was pouring from his brow half an hour later. If someone had come upon them suddenly, they would have seen what was likely the oddest sight they had ever laid eyes on.

All except for his head, Haery had completely shifted. This was always the hardest part of the transformation; shifting the head as well as what he knew was to come after.

He saw a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye, from Rhaenys' direction he thought. The next thing he knew, he felt two small hands laid upon his black scaled body that were both admitting more of the Valyrian magick's that his body apparently needed. That was all it took. Those small hands laying upon him seemingly fed him an extra burst of power, and with that, he was finally... _finally_...able to complete the total transformation as his human head abruptly shifted to reveal the blood red head and violet eyes of a young dragon; fangs, horns, and all!

Instantly, his mind was assaulted.

He had known that part of the process was approaching, but nothing could really prepare you for it. In moment's, he was thrust within the mind and psyche of a primal dragon.

For the human brain, magical or otherwise, to suddenly be overtaken and inundated by an animal of such powerful dominance and base instinct...was disorienting in the extreme. He knew though that he absolutely _must_ take control of the dragon's power...the dragon's own will, and force it to bend to his own. Something that was easier said than done.

The will of a dragon was not something to be easily subverted...at all.

He knew though, that there was no real choice. It was something he must do. If he did not, then not only would his own mind be subjugated by the base instincts of the dragon (causing him to lose himself within the mind of the beast), but he could potentially be stuck in his dragon form for the rest of his life. Obviously due to the fact that there were no other wizards or witches that could transform him back in this world.

The fierce need to dominate, the hunger, the desire to cause wanton destruction; it was all there.

However, all it took was one look at his beloved Rhae and Dany, and he knew he had to immediately gain control at any cost. He could never allow harm to come to them; certainly not by his own action's.

So, with an almighty wrench of sheer stubbornness, magic, and his own indomitable will power, Haery forced the dragon's consciousness to merge with his own. It was a thoroughly torturous mental experience, but something that must be done. He could feel it having a slight effect on every part of him; altering him slightly. However, he would not allow it to affect much. He would _always_ be the master of his own domain; his own body and magic.

Never, would he permit another to control his action's.

He opened his reptilian eye's now; safe in the knowledge that his human mind would forever be in control of his dragon as he looked around at Rhaenys and Dany.

"Wow!" Rhaenys exclaimed.

"I can't believe you did it! Can you still understand us?" Dany asked him excitedly; her silver-blonde curls bouncing in her joy and excitement.

He tried to speak, but of course it just came out as more of a hissing rumble type of sound, so he just shook his head up and down in confirmation as he began to swish his long spiked tail back and forth.

"I'm so proud of you, Little Brother! You are a true dragon." Rhaenys told him an immensely proud glint in her identical deep purple eyes.

"Ohhh! Rhaenys! Can you imagine when he's just a little bigger...we'll get to fly!" Dany all but squealed excitedly; a dreamy look now gracing her beautiful face.

Rhaenys' eyes widened at the thought of actually riding a dragon.

"I didn't even think of that. There's so many possibilities! This is amazing, Jae!" Rhaenys said.

"I can't wait for Mother to see you." Dany said.

"Oh, I wonder what Papa and Lya will think?" Rhaenys wondered out loud.

Suddenly, they heard a throat being cleared.

"Well Rhaenys Dear, when he regains consciousness, I suppose we'll find out." Lyanna said from the now open doorway.

The two young girls and the young red and black dragon followed the movement of Lyanna's head, and sure enough; laying there passed out on the floor was their father and brother- Rhaegar Targaryen.

Haery supposed seeing your eldest son turn himself in to a scaly fire-breathing reptile was as good enough reason as any if one were actually going to have cause to faint.

Still in his dragon form, Haery watched as his father blearily began to regain consciousness. He slowly blinked the confusion out of his amethyst eye's as he vaguely looked around the room and locked eyes with his mother before smiling at his own mother who had just entered the room several moments earlier to see what the commotion was about. Rhaegar had a bemused expression on his face when Lyanna smiled at him.

"I think I must have had the oddest dream, Lya. You'll never believe what I saw. I know I must sound as mad as my father, but in my dream, I think I actually saw Jaehaerys turn himself into a bloody dread dragon! Can you imagine it?" Rhaegar asked with a chuckle that both Lyanna and Rhaella soon joined in.

"Well My Darling, I think we all just may be as mad as Aerys then." Lyanna said calmly.

It was apparently very difficult to manage to overly surprise a Stark as somehow his mother remained as poised and confident as always despite the fact that her firstborn was standing there as a dragon-made-flesh.

How his mother maintained her stoic expression at that moment, he would never know. He thought it must have been her Northern blood. It took alot to get a Stark too worked up about much of anything.

"Why do you think that, My Love?" Rhaegar asked.

"Oh, I don't know. Perhaps it has something to do with the small fact that our son did indeed turn himself in to a bloody great red dragon! Turn to your right, Rhaegar." Lyanna replied a bit tersely as her icy silver eye's narrowed in an undecipherable emotion.

If her tone was just a touch hysterical by that point; well...who could really blame her?

Slowly, his father's head turned in his direction.

Haery's reptilian eyes eyed his father's now very large violet gaze that bore an emotion he had no name for.

Dumbfounded, stupefied, terrified, thrilled, excited; all those and more could describe his father's shocked appearance.

He decided he'd better change back and attempt to offer up an explanation for this...display of magic? He didn't know how else to describe it to them.

Oh, well. They were bound to find out eventually, and at least he knew his grandmother had nothing against magic. He just hoped his beloved parents had similar views. He did not think he could handle another repeat of the Dursely's; especially not after having actually known what loving parents were really like for the first time ever.

In the blink of an eye, where once had been a relatively young looking red dragon, there now stood their eldest son of six name days; Crown Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen- all human once more.

"Jaehaerys?" Rhaegar all but croaked out; finally comprehending the truth that his own boy really could transform himself into a dragon of all things!

"Hello, Papa!" He chirped happily.

He really was very pleased that he had finally mastered his transformation.

Rhaegar just blinked dazedly for a moment before he finally found words.

"Good evening, Son. I think we need to have a bit of a talk, don't you?" Rhaegar asked his son, all the while not expressing near the amount of awed disbelief that should likely have been present.

At least he too remembered the legends his mother used to tell him of the Dragonborn, so he had at least _some_ idea as to what was occurring with his eldest son. Sorcery was also not exactly new to him, nor was the fact his son was capable of it seeing as he had long held suspicions about certain incidents over the years that frankly had no other explanation than magic. Rhaegar also did not fail to connect the dots as to just what this could mean for the future of their family concerning all he had recently learned about dragon eggs from the ancient Valyrian scrolls. In fact, it was all Rhaegar could do to surpress the massive smile that was threatening to break out on his face as he stared at his son with an expression of almost child-like wonder.

'He really is something special.' He thought fondly.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter IV.**

 **Author's Note-** _Just to be clear or clearer. This is without a doubt a super!harry story and I make absolutely no apologies for that. I said it in the beginning for any who missed it. I repeat: this is a bad ass, high-powered harry, and a 'protagonist win' fic. For me, this is like if you had placed HP into the world of A Song of Ice and Fire and simply what I would like to have seen done to some of my least favorite characters. Of course a decent wizard with a passing knowledge of history would win the majority of the time against a bunch of uneducated medieval folk. This is just something for fun for myself. For any Harry Potter fans, this may not be your cup of tea because it will not revolve much around that story arc. If you've not read the Song of Ice and Fire Series of Books you may not have much of a clue about any of it as again- this is just for my own fun._

 _Ps- After this chapter is when most of the real action will begin. Most of what came before is world building._

 **Disclaimer:** I Own Nothing- my credit's so bad they won't even take my cash!

 _Rhaegar I. POV._

The first time he saw his son transform into a dragon had to have been the most shocking day of Rhaegar's life. Not even his resurrection upon his own funeral pyre had been quite so fantastical. He remembered being a small boy and the times his mother would read to him of all the tales of Old Valyria and their ancient legends. The story of the Dragonborn had always been one of his favorites. He'd always merely assumed however, that they were just that; stories.

Never, in his wildest imagining's, could he have ever predicted that _his_ very own heir would be the one those ancient legends referred to.

If there was one thing about his brilliant young son that he had quickly discovered, it was that to assume virtually _anything_ where he was concerned was the height of folly. His son would always continue to defy expectations, of that he had no doubt.

Of course he'd known his son was magically gifted. The events directly after the birth of Daenerys had more than clued he and Lyanna in on that little detail. In truth, neither of them had been overly surprised. He had always known that such powerful traits as sorcery had long manifested within his own bloodline. Rhaegar himself was even capable of some of the Valyrian magicks his mother had taught him in secret. Lyanna too, had known that members of her own family had often been blessed with certain blood gifts that manifested throughout the long history of House Stark. Lyanna herself could enter the minds of small birds.

Still, nothing like that can really prepare one to see one of your children turn themselves into a dragon, and have unequivocal proof that they are indeed the being that was whispered about in prophecies by the ancients.

He sat with his son and listened intently to all he'd offered to share with him; even if he was almost certain that he was holding some things back for whatever reason. As his son had described what he'd already learned, Rhaegar had found himself even further surprised by his admittance of the many and extremely varied gifts Jaehaerys was capable of. He'd even gone on to explain how he'd begun to instruct his sister and aunt in the use of their own magick's.

They had then given him a demonstration of what Jaehaerys had taught them.

It may have only been what amounted to a simple light spell, but the sheer amount of raw power he could feel coursing throughout the room when the three of them had cast a 'night-to-day' spell had left his sense's tingling and his mind even further awed.

Jaehaerys had explained his own belief that the three of them could cast magicks far stronger together than should have otherwise been possible, and he'd admit to being more than a bit impressed. He'd always felt the three little menaces had some sort of special bond or connection shared between them. The god's alone knew how often they caused chaos around the manse. Of course he'd never admit to being thoroughly amused by the trio's antics.

That would just not be proper.

Lyanna, he felt was more surprised than he, but considering how unflappable she tended to be under even the most difficult of circumstances; it was hard to determine.

'Ah, the stoicism of a Stark.' He thought ruefully imagining his wife's sometimes icy exterior that hid the fire that burned within.

The only reason he'd not been much more awestruck or even possibly terrified as some parents would have been was because of the beliefs his own mother had instilled within him almost from infancy. He'd always known magic was very much real, and the fact that his family had long been especially adept at its practice.

As a child, his mother taught him a great deal about the mysteries of the arcane.

When he was young, his mother would always insure there would be some quiet time that she could spend with him that allowed the two of them the opportunity to speak with complete freedom away from the prying eyes that so normally followed their every move in the Red Keep. During those times that Rhaella had passed on much of what she knew the Citadel and the Faith especially would label heresy. Without doubt, those had been some of the happiest times he ever remembered experiencing as a child; exploring the wonders of magic and Targaryen secrets of old.

It was later during the night, or rather early morning, and Lyanna was cuddled into his arms as the both of them attempted to return to the land of dreams for a few more hours of rest after their... _enlightening_...evening. He was certain his wife's mind was as restless with the recent revelations as his own.

"What do you think about our son's little...trick, Rhaegar?"

"Do you remember what had been on my mind so much around the time we first met one another?" He answered with a question of his own.

Lyanna furrowed her brow's in thought as her mind appeared to wander back to those early days when neither of the two of them had much hope left in terms of their own future. She, soon to be married off to a drunken whoremonger of a man she loathed utterly. Him, bound in a loveless marriage all the while living on the edge of a precipice; terrified of just what sorts of horrors his father would unleash upon the Kingdoms next whilst he just stood by- watching it all virtually helpless to the whims of a mad man.

Yes, those early days had been bleak indeed.

"You mean your prophecy; do you not?"

"Yes." He replied simply.

"What of it?"

She had never liked hearing about the possibility of their children being the bearer of such a troubled legacy.

He could see her sharp mind putting the pieces together of what he was referring to quite quickly.

While no one would ever describe Lyanna Stark as an intellectual, she was vastly more intelligent than most would assume. Her smart's were that of a different kind altogether: common sense combined with a thirst to know all she could of the greater world surrounding her. Oftentimes, he would overthink a problem or attempt to solve it with a long process of detailed research; resulting in various tandems which ended up merely complicating and even compounding whatever the original issue may have been. Yet, put the same problem before his lady wife, and she could identify and resolve a question or dispute with her own brand of common sense and plainly spoken direction. Her solution frequently seemed more sensible and even blatantly obvious in hindsight.

One of the many reasons Rhaegar strongly believed they made such a complimentary pairing.

From his own observation's, Jaehaerys had inherited the better traits of the both of them; frequently accomplishing by himself what would usually take the combined logic of both his parents to achieve.

"After seeing what we just saw and heard, does it _still_ seem quite so far-fetched?"

Lyanna let out an inelegant snort followed by a more subdued chuckling.

Her sleep deprived husky (and rather sexy in Rhaegar's humble opinion) voice vibrated against his bare chest as she burrowed further into his warmth.

"It certainly places things into a different perspective, no matter how much I might wish it were otherwise. You know I was never one to hold to such a thing as fickle and misleading as prophecy, but if anyone had any chance of actually becoming some kind of prophesied savior prince, I have absolutely no doubt that it would be our little boy. I mean really, he apparently already fits the requirements for one ancient legend...what's one more? How many princes could there possibly be that could hope to hold a candle to our son in terms of individual gifts and as many blessings as have been bestowed upon him?"

"Very few indeed, I should think." He agreed unnecessarily.

"Regardless, if there were ever to be such a thing as a, ' _Prince That Was Promised_ ', it shouldn't come as much of a surprise to us in the least that it would be our son. I suppose I have to finally admit that there might actually be some validity to your initial beliefs. No matter how much I wished to never admit such a thing..."

Lyanna's voice had trailed off softly as a look that was rare graced her lovely visage.

He gently cupped his wife's cheek.

The expression of fear currently etched upon her face had him staring intently into her wintry gaze; his own concern for her readily apparent.

"What is it, My Love?"

She remained mute before she finally spoke.

"Tell me truly. Do you still have those awful dreams plaguing you?"

There was no need for her to clarify for him which dreams she was referring to.

He well knew those of which she spoke intimately.

This time it was Rhaegar whose eyes were overcome with a slightly haunted look.

"They've never ceased. I did not wish to trouble you with such malignant thoughts, My Love. I would never wish those fell sights upon any other...you least of all. Tis disturbing enough to see them for myself."

They had haunted his nights for as long as he could remember. Horrifying and unending, they were led by beings of such deadly beauty and grace they could never pass as human. They nightly conjured terror-inducing army's where they joined half man, half beast-like creatures in riding their ice spiders and ice dragons down past the Wall (that always fell in the end) with an army of their un-dead thrall's with glowing blue eyes; converting the realm of men as they swept across the land like a tidal wave of doom. The abominations brought death, destruction, and desolation to all that was good in the world; choking the life out of the very earth itself until they covered the land in ice and death. Every spine-chilling vision brought about the consequences of what was to come to mankind if the Long Night prevailed and the victory of the Others assured.

Yes, he still saw them on many occasions whether he wished it or not.

However, coincidentally around the time of the birth of his son, the dreams had undergone a slight change.

While he was still being inundated by visions of all he had ever held dear being destroyed by those un-dead monstrosities, they would now at least sometimes face more than the insignificant and futile resistance that was put up by those whom manned the Wall.

Almost since the day his son was born, he dreamed of flying high on a being with wide leathery wings that would breathe fire down upon the un-dead horde. In the distance he could always see others of his kin mounted atop similar beasts as they desperately attempted to help when they united to hold back the minions of the Great Other. All his life those visions...those nightmares...had plagued him; even to the point of haunting his waking hours on occasion. It was only upon the birth of his precious son that they had ever altered to show that man-kind held even a sliver of the meagre hope to fight against the dread tide that was ever approaching humanity.

Lyanna kissed the top of his toned chest and looked into his violet eyes.

"Would that I could remove such a burden from you." Lyanna whispered.

As he gazed into her hooded silvery eyes, he automatically felt some of the fear those visions never failed to induce recede as Lyanna's singular presence fought off the bone-deep cold that always set in; the ice and winter within her own veins freezing even the Others in the confines of his heart.

"You do more for me than you will ever comprehend."

"You know, for so long the thoughts and worries of that godsforsaken prophecy had consumed my thought's. I felt it held paramount importance over everything; even the issues concerning my father. Yet, you changed me. You have changed nearly everything about me. Nothing else in this world could have held sway over mine heart and mind as you, My Love. It was you that taught me how to live...that gave me my reason to fight and try to persevere for all our sake's. I never even truly comprehended what love really was before I laid eyes on you. Without you and the family you've given us...you are my reason for everything, Lya." He told her softly.

"Just as you are mine." Was her instant response.

It was the stark truth too.

Before he met his wild winter rose, he was more like an automaton; or a puppet with strings dancing to the tune of some invisible piper. His life was consumed by resolving the prophecy that had ensnared him so, along with unending thoughts of politics and his attempts at maneuvering through the Game of Thrones. He'd never even realized how very little he was truly living; merely existing through the drudgery his life had been.

Then, she swept into his life like a raging maelstrom; bringing with her everything that made life worth living and that he'd never known he had been missing.

She was a being from the land of ice and snow, and it was ironic that it had taken a Stark of Winterfell to instill such heat and passion into his staid and mundane existence.

She had enabled a dragon to finally discover his own inner fire.

While he never wished for any type conflict, he would admit to being quite selfish.

He would have rather waged a hundred more wars than to ever experience an existence that did not include her. Her love was indeed a love worth fighting for...worth dying for. He would do it all over again if he'd had to. She would always be worth it in his eye's.

When she came into his life, she struck his heart like a lightning bolt; forever altering him on such a fundamental level as to leave him near unrecognizable. She had transformed him in heart, mind, body, and down into the depths of his very soul. She had bewitched him utterly and he loved her more than life itself.

"The fact that those dreams still persist unchanged lend credence to suppose that what you see are indeed portents of things to come. The fact that our son had been gifted as he has also correlates to the probability of him being the subject of that damned prophecy no matter how much I might wish such burdens to never get near our children. I cannot deny the facts." She said with a worried sigh of anguish at the though of her sweet child facing the monsters come to life straight from Old Nan's tales.

"They have changed; the dreams I mean."

"What? They've not become worse have they? I'd not thought such a thing possible."

"Actually, the way they altered was the only way I ever saw even a glimmer of hope for the survival of humanity." He finally mentioned; thinking back to the initial alteration of those strange dreams.

"What changed about them?"

There was now a more curious lilt in her voice.

"I know this is going to sound mad, but after what we saw this evening...it might not be quite as far fetched as I'd previously thought it to be. It's why I never mentioned it to you before. I thought I was just imagining it." He told her.

She raised a shapely dark brow in curiosity.

"As I said, it had sounded mad, but...ever since just around about the time Jaehaerys was born, I began seeing dragons attacking the Others and their minion's." He admitted.

"Dragons?"

It was more of a blank statement than a question.

"Dragons." He supplied with a single nod of his head.

Lyanna's gaze drifted off in thought. After seeing her eldest turn himself into a fairly large fire-breathing red lizard, was it _really_ so hard to imagine the re-birth of the near-mythical creatures that had been extinct for well over one hundred years?

"The eggs." She mumbled; more to herself than to him.

"What?"

"The eggs, Rhaegar. Did you not tell me that those scrolls Gerion gifted to Haery had finally answered the question your family had been attempting to solve for generations now?" Lyanna wondered.

His eye's flew wide open at that starling inquiry.

Rhaegar felt like slapping the back of his own head in his stupidity.

"I cannot believe I forgot about that!" He exclaimed.

"I think after what we saw this night you may be excused for the momentary lapse in your usual brilliance." Lyanna said humorously with a smirk adorning her lush, cupid's bow lips.

He thought that...admittedly, she had a point there- as usual.

"This could change the face of the whole world, Lya. We could guarantee the continued safety and security of our family against nearly anything with dragons...well, as much as it would be possible to ward against the unknown. If it worked, and if the prophecy truly does come to pass, we just might be able to insure our son's survival!" He postulated hopefully; feeling mightily relieved that perhaps his nightmares not need end with the destruction of all he held dear to him.

"How long did the writings say it would take for a clutch to hatch naturally with a true dragon's fire warming them?" Lyanna asked him for clarity.

Rhaegar hummed in acknowledgment as he thought over what those hidden passages had revealed.

"Three full turns was the cycle stated if they'd been separated from the dragon they originated from. Two turns if not."

Both were silent as they thought over the implications of everything that such a monumental endeavor would undoubtedly require.

"Braavos would be far too unsafe. We've been here too long as it is. The Bank and the Sea Lord can only be expected to keep Robert's men off our trail for so long, and I believe we've stretched our luck as far as we should dare." Lyanna said definitively.

"You're likely correct in that regard. Besides, Braavos is too densely populated and frequented by Westerosi to even contemplate hatching them here. Mother had mentioned she believed it was past time for us to relocate to another estate only a couple of days ago. I'd not thought to bring it up yet."

"Where would the best location we already own be to attempt such an thing?"

"There is a property that has a small estate already on it that could be much enlarged and fortified for security; especially for when the dragons are young and unable to defend themselves. It is located at the end of Lake Myrrdin off the River Myr between Pentos and Myr. Pentos would likely be better to set up as our headquarters. Travel between the two is not difficult and would not be much of a hindrance to keep it secret. If it works well enough, it's also just about the perfect location to begin to quietly train and quarter new forces. If we actually manage to hatch them, I suspect we'd be able to gain recruits easily. They'd know that once the beasts were grown, we'd be a force unlike any other in existence." He explained the ideas currently running swiftly through his mind.

The logistics of such a feat were readily making themselves known as he thought out the proper ways to achieve their goal's.

"You believe he'll really succeed against all the odds, and manage what no one else has in centuries?"

By that point, there was virtually no doubts in his mind whatsoever.

After seeing the unequivocal proof that his young son was indeed the Dragonborn of all the mad things, he was convinced.

"I know he will."

"He's so young...they're _all_ still so very young. I..." She trailed off, her motherly instinct to shelter her children from all the chaos of the world almost seemed as if it were at war with destiny itself.

"I know, My Love. Would that we could wrap them up and hide them away from the world till they were all in their gray hairs, but we both know that isn't an option. Sooner or later, the world _will_ come calling. I know of nothing else that could keep them any safer than dragons. Anyone foolish enough to attempt to harm our children then would face a fate far worse than anything we could deal them. This _will_ see to our family's safety before anything else; I just know it." He said as he tried to explain the feeling of the rightness of what they were contemplating that made itself known to him.

"How many eggs are there again? I don't recall the exact numbers?" Lyanna questioned.

"We brought all we had left when we sailed from Dragonstone. We have ten eggs." He reminded.

"Ten eggs. That's a great deal of possibility. We have nine Targaryen's by birth and ten possible eggs for them to choose from, and an actual method to hatch them."

"Remarkable." She thought out loud.

"Indeed. However, I should think only the elder children should attempt the bonding as of yet. Rhaenys, Jaehaerys, Daenerys, Viserys, Mother, and myself would be more than enough to attempt for quite some time. Really, even the three of them are probably too young, but considering it could only come about by using Jaehaerys' powers, we could hardly deny him the opportunity. We both know wherever he goes, so too do Rhaenys and Dany. Aelyx, Valarr, and Valaerie are far too young for such a thing." He said thoughtfully.

"Well, if we are going to do this, than you are right that those are certainly all that should attempt it. I still do not like attempting the idea at such an early age, but you were right about their safety. That is the most important thing. Besides, I have no doubts whatsoever that Haery had already come to the same conclusion and would hatch one on his own whether we gave our blessing for it or not." Lyanna remarked; her certainty in her words easily heard.

She knew their eldest son's mind well

"So, we are agreed and should begin to plan accordingly?" He questioned just to be certain once more.

That was not something that could ever have been decided upon by him alone, king or not.

"Yes, yes. You have my blessings, Husband."

"Now..." Lyanna all but purred leadingly as she rolled back over on top of him and locked her wintry silver gaze onto his amethyst orbs.

"Let us see how quickly _I_ can wake the dragon." She whispered into his ear huskily; causing more than a bit of a twitch to his member before he felt his gorgeous bride begin to snake her hand down towards his groin.

"Lya." Was the only whispered word he could get out before his mind was suddenly overcome with the haze of lust his beautiful winter rose had never failed to instill at her mere touch.

 _Nine Months Later_

 _The Dragon's Rest_

 _100 Miles Southeast of Pentos_

Rhaegar marveled at the construction occurring all around the soon-to-be aptly named, ' _Dragon's Rest_ '. He was not even certain of what style one could call the main building. The columns were not new to the more palatial styles sometimes found in Essos, but he'd certainly never seen them used in the current manner. It partly reminded him of an religious temple or even the Great Sept of Baelor to a certain degree (especially the pillared dome in the center), but that could not come close to symbolizing the uniqueness of the...well, he struggled to call it a 'keep.'

It was closer to a palace in truth.

With the exception of the tall wooden palisades, the villa was not much in the way of defensible. Of course, if they were lucky, they would no longer have the need of high stone walls and stout keeps for maintaining security.

The fast-rising villa was at the far eastern end of Lake Myrrdin; which was the source of the River Myr. Despite the names of the local geography, the property was almost the middle point in the distance between Pentos and Myr ( but firmly in Pentoshi territory). Pentos itself, where they had recently relocated from Braavos, was a little less than one hundred miles to the northwest.

Their out of the way estate was massive in terms of land. It had been purchased by Prince (and later King) Viserys II Targaryen shortly after the Dance of the Dragons as a possible safe-haven. For miles all around, Rhaegar looked out upon Targaryen-owned lands in one of the least settled, but surprisingly fertile lands in Western Essos. The estate held a magnificent view of Lake Myrrdin and the lush land that surrounded the deep-water lake.

Also under construction was a harbor. One could sail from the large lake down the length of the River Myr to directly access the Narrow Sea. Hopefully, if their agreements with Pentos concluded as they thought they would, the new estate would become one of the main ports for their naval strength. They had also recently purchased some of the coastline not too far from where the river met the Narrow Sea that had a perfect large natural harbor that could one day be much further developed as well given it's excellent location.

The manse itself was replacing an older villa that had been constructed more or less in the traditional multi-tiered and Pentoshi style with its numerous square brick towers. The new residence was the brain child of two of the most intelligent individuals Rhaegar had ever known: Tyrion Lannister and his own son, Prince Jaehaerys. Oddly enough, even though there was a gap of just under ten name days separating the two in age, his eldest son had found an remarkable friendship with Tywin Lannister's dwarf son.

When ' _Lord Tywin's Bane_ ' had reached his seventeenth name day, he had left on a tour of Essos to 'sew his wild oats', as well as remove himself from his father's antipathy and hate for a time. (As well as to better hide his young common-born wife from his father's notice Ser Jaime had told him.) Lord Tywin had been more than agreeable to the idea. In truth, the voyage the of his younger son was really just the opening the half-man had needed to finally reunite with his beloved elder brother Jaime whom he had secretly been in contact with for a number of years.

As Ser Jaime and the Lady Ashara's family always lived quite close the Royal Family, the younger Lannister had soon been introduced to Rhaegar's eldest son and heir. The two highly intelligent boy's had hit it off instantly.

Tyrion had apparently been especially impressed by the younger prince. After getting to know his son, they had discovered they had many things in common (despite the age gap) as they both treasured a broad scope of knowledge and held great interest in many things others had difficulty keeping track of. Jaehaerys had shown Lord Tyrion some of the many sketches he had created of a new and seemingly unique brand of architecture that Rhaegar had not even known his son held an interest in.

As they were in the process of changing locations due to necessity, Tyrion had learned that they were going to be needing to reconstruct their new home to accommodate their court-in-exile. He had brought forth an incredibly detailed sketch of a large villa complete with the needed dependencies that was not only beautifully crafted, but properly detailed to ascribe the exact methods needed to utilize and render the vision that had been drawn into reality; even the mathematical calculations for the construction had been rendered perfectly detailed.

Rhaegar's surprise could not have been greater when informed that the entire plan was the work of his own son!

Though his son had steadfastly maintained that it would not have been possible without Lord Tyrion's aid in helping him to finalize the plan's and calculations in the finished product. In hindsight, he really thought that he should not have been all that terribly shocked; not with everything else his boy had already proven himself capable of despite his age.

The plans had been a large success amongst the elder members of their household when Rhaegar had shown them the design. None of them had ever before encountered such an elegant, regal style. Not only were the plans for the proposed construction beautiful architecturally, they were also ingenius.

When the teams Rhaegar hired for the project had seen the designs and requirements needed, they had all been flabbergasted.

The mathematics involved in the design allowed for them to actually have a considerably easier experience in the construction process. (Especially after his son explained exactly what his so-called 'metric system' comprised.) The placements of the cornerstones in the positions indicated, the foundations being constructed according to the plans, as well exactly how to utilize the massive columns of the so-called 'Ionic Order' (however his son thought up such names he'd never know); all of that had allowed for the builders to work in an entirely new method that they were all soon raving about. Accordingly, they had all declared this to be by far a superior method of construction and design to anything approaching the grandeur present since the days of the Freehold itself!

After learning the relatively simple mathematics, all of them had all but begged to be shown how to adapt the new principles to other projects. They had found that many of the problems faced by builders and engineers the world over had been made obsolete by using Jaehaerys' detailed construction methods. His son had been pleased to explain everything to them at length as he'd always enjoyed sharing knowledge (how he gained said knowledge, Rhaegar knew not) to those who wished to learn and better themselves; another reason Rhaegar believed his son got on so well with Lord Tyrion.

The main bulk of the manse being raised before him was a large square-shaped block with long galleries connecting to wings on either side of the central block. The estate's dependencies, stable's, and greenhouses were all being built as miniature versions of the main central block and were positioned in precise symmetric proximity to the central structure. Both the façade and rear of the central portion of the manse was lined with massive, two-storied, fluted, white and grey-veined marble columns. There were eight of the large columns on either side of the main entrance doors that supported the large tiled roof. Balustrades were upon both the roof as well as the massive wide veranda that graced the front and rear sides of the villa. Marble gargoyles of various Valyrian motifs were being designed and placed upon the upper balustrade; though they were nowhere near as large and fierce as the monstrosities decorating the castle at Dragonstone.

Colonnaded walkways lined the gallery sections of the villa, though they were not marble; merely made from the same cut stone the bulk of the villa was being built with. Graveled pathways were being laid out that would line the massive gardens of the estate.

Far enough from the rising port under construction that their view of the water would be uninhibited by commerce- was the villa's lake access. It was being designed by the combined effort of his wife, his mother, and the Lady Ashara. When complete, Rhaegar had no doubts that the entire estate would be one of the most beautiful noble residences ever seen.

There was a glorious feel to the entire project that made one feel they were conquerors of the world. The overwhelming effect of the many massive marble columns and covered pathways was a completely new vision of grace and harmonic precision never before witnessed in the architecture of Essos or Westeros.

The name his son had declared the overall style to be termed (and that was already being used by the builders and engineers) : _the Imperial Style_.

Presently, Rhaegar's thoughts and pleasure at their new home was diverted as he continued his walk down the cobbled pathway that had led him to another portion of the estate that was both remote as well as entirely different to anything else being built. Before him lay a structure that was still only partially finished that looked more like the hand of nature itself had placed it there instead of anything constructed at the hands of man.

In front of him was what appeared to be a steep rise of the earth that was massively rounded and strewn with rocks and boulders that gave one the appearance of an oddly large hilltop in an otherwise flat panorama. At various points within the circumference of the hill, what looked like entrances to caverns or mines were placed at intervening lengths with large arched tunnels around the mound. Rhaegar continued along his way as he entered one of the paths that led into the heart of the space.

After passing thru the arched stone entrance, he found torches lighting the remainder of the way deeper into the rock-strewn grassy mound. He walked past the last torch in the roughly hewn stone passageway and exited into a massive crater-like opening that was at first glance unlike anything he'd ever seen. Only one other location came to mind that he thought might be somewhat similar if he remembered correctly: the tunnels within the Dragonmont on Dragonstone had a very similar feel to them. Of course his current location lacked the volcano that added to the feel of the draconic paradise on Dragonstone.

The large area before him was floored with bare dirt and gravelly in appearance. Massive boulders dotted the landscape here and there; placed in no certain way quite haphazardly. The steep upward sloping of the earth surrounding the entire project gave off the feeling of being within a large arena or a deep pit of some kind. He highly doubted that anything even remotely similar had ever been built; even by the Valyrian's themselves.

As he approached closer, he saw steam arising from the direction of the center of the area.

He knew that phenomenon was coming from the surprising find they had initially discovered on the property that had prompted the idea and design of his current location: a fairly large, and (for the region) highly unusual natural hot springs.

Lyanna had been immediately enchanted with the discovery. It was an ironically warm reminder of her cold Northern homeland. She had told them all about the hot springs in both the godswood of Winterfell where she and her brother's swam as children, and the interior source of the warmth of the stronghold of Winterfell itself despite its frosty location.

Jaehaerys and Rhaenys had considered the find with an eye towards a entirely different use.

The whole structure around them was the product of their mind's and was built for a singular purpose which was the main reason Rhaegar was not only nearing his current location, but was a large part of the reason they had chosen this particular estate at all. They were hoping to hatch dragons for the first time in well over one hundred years. What lay before him had been built with that in mind and was the habitat constructed to house them.

Rhaegar approached the center and saw an interesting collage of people and objects.

To the side of the hot springs, lay what looked to be a large circular fire pit outlined with rocks. In the center of which lay six of the unique multi-colored dragon eggs they had brought with them that had been previously housed within a room deep in the bowels of Dragonstone. There was one egg a piece for Rhaegar himself, his mother the Queen, his brother Viserys, his daughter Rhaenys, his son Jaehaerys, and his sister Daenerys. The others had been deemed too young to attempt the bonding if they were successful.

Before the move, Rhaegar had poured over the newly-revealed texts Jaehaerys had discovered hidden within the scrolls gifted to him by Gerion Lannister; spoils from his successful expedition to the ruins of Old Valyria.

At first, both he and Queen Rhaella had been privately disappointed when they initially discovered that the only way mentioned in the scrolls to hatch the egg of a dragon (without the aid of the beast that lay it), had been for another of its kind to incubate the egg by breathing it's dragonfire onto the shell on a precise schedule. The dragon would follow the lunar cycle and warm the egg with it's fire on a daily basis from the beginning of one full moon all the way to the completion of the (to a dragon anyway) instinctual process three full turns later. In hindsight, it made a great deal of sense how the Valyrians had kept their stock of dragons as it seemed there was something in the magical properties of the dragon's own natural fire that allowed an egg to hatch without the dragon that lay it. They had initially despaired because the information within the scrolls seemed to conclude that there was no other way it could be done as they certainly did not have a spare dragon laying around.

Everything changed when he saw his son transform as the Dragonborn for the first time.

It appeared as if the god's had smiled upon his family once more in their hour of need as they now had an actual dragon that could breathe the magical flames onto however many eggs he chose.

That had made finding a proper place to attempt the hatching and hopefully the subsequent raising and training of newly-hatched dragons a top priority for the family. Rhaenys and Jaehaerys had come to him the night after they had seen the hot springs on the old property, and had shown him the schematics of what they had quickly drawn up as a draft for the habitat they felt would be best suited to the beasts. He had taken a quick look at the design and had approved whole-heartedly. Construction had started soon afterwards.

Now, here they were more than six moons later; preparing to discover if the wisdom written down by their ancestor's held any truth.

He dearly hoped so for all their sake's.

Rhaegar reached the family as the last of them to arrive.

He sat down on a boulder between his wife and mother as he quietly listened to the children and Viserys eagerly speaking of their egg's.

"What are they speaking of?" He asked Lyanna; placing his arm around her shoulders.

Both she and his mother laughed lightly.

"They are currently arguing over which of them has come up with the best name for their soon-to-be hatched dragon. So far, only Viserys has come up with a proper name for his own." She explained.

"What did he choose?"

"Apparently he's always been quite fond of the name Vermithor. I have no idea what they'll end up choosing." Lyanna replied.

"Hmm definitely not a bad name; a name of strength. That was the name of the Old King's dragon. I think it a fine choice." Rhaegar decided.

"So this is the last day of it; how does Jaehaerys believe it will work?" He asked curiously.

Apparently his son had noticed his arrival by that point himself.

"Papa!"

"Good evening, Son. So, this is the final night of the incubation process?" Rhaegar inquired as he placed his free arm around his son's shoulders in a brief hug in greeting; having not actually seen the boy since they broke their fasts that morning.

"Yes, Papa. According to the texts, all I have to do is to transform, and warm the eggs the same as I've been doing for the past three moons and they should hatch all on their own. Rhae reminded me that I'll need to wait until the moon is actually visible in the heavens before attempting it. I would have tried around mid-day otherwise." He explained.

"You truly believe that this will be successful...that they'll all hatch?" Lyanna asked her firstborn curiously.

Rhaegar knew she had been of two different minds about the entire thing. A part of her was nearly as excited as the rest of them, while the mother in her worried about the dangers such beasts could present to her children.

Rhaenys, Viserys, and Daenerys had joined them and he quietly greeted the three of them. Rhaenys sat on the opposite boulder beside Jaehaerys on one side, while Daenerys quickly took her place on his son's remaining free side. As always, the two beautiful young girls were flanking his son and their leader and/or chief partner-in-crime. Viserys took his own seat next to their mother.

"I know they will, Mama. I can...I can just _feel_ it... _feel them_. Every time I warm the eggs, the little dragon's magic within the shells grow each time. They've been getting stronger and stronger."

"We can feel it too, Lya! Our egg's have been getting warmer each time we hold them even after they've been cooled down from Jae's fire. I cannot explain it either...we can just... _feel_...them almost. It's kind of like feeling and knowing their is life growing within." Rhaenys said; helping him to explain what all the Targaryen-blooded amongst them somehow could just instinctually feel- or perhaps it was just a signal from their own magic's.

He saw Dany touch his son's shoulder and point upwards toward the sky.

"It's time." She said quietly.

Suddenly, the excitement amongst them all was palpable. They'd soon know for certain if all their instinct's had been correct after all.

Jaehaerys locked eyes with him, and he gave him a decisive nod in reply.

His son looked around at all of them, and he could tell his son felt the weight of all their hope's resting upon his slim young shoulders.

He seemed to take a deep breath to center himself and fortify his own conviction.

"Right." He heard him mumble to himself as he walked to the edge of the fire pit and stared down at the six dragon eggs.

In the next instant, he had transformed.

Rhaegar did not believe he'd ever really become used to the sight of his son's transformation. He doubted anyone could accustom themselves to such a sight. Where there was once a silver-haired young boy of seven name days, there was now a blood red and black adolescent dragon. He thought it odd that his son's dragon form did not actually correlate with his human age. He appeared to be more like what he would think someone in their mid to late-teen's would appear size wise. Of course, there was not exactly a template or a guide book to measure such things by; so who knew?

He watched on as his son's long spiked tail swished back and forth through the air as the red dragon inhaled a deep breath of oxygen.

When the dragon next opened his sharp-toothed jaw's, a massive jet black and deep red torrent of dragonfire bathed the fire pit containing the six eggs in a seemingly unending burst of flame.

Instantly, they all felt the increase in temperature as the dragonfire continued to bathe the eggs in it's heat. The steam coming from hot springs not far away had risen dramatically as all moisture in the air was warmed greatly.

They were all sitting upon tenterhooks; waiting for a sign of what they knew not.

After the first blast of dragonfire came to a halt, the red dragon emitted a ferocious roar that actually shook the very ground with the vibrations of sound.

Inhaling once more, he watched on as his son repeated the process of bathing the eggs in his flame's over and over again in near continuous succession for an undetermined amount of time.

They were all so fixated on the sight before them that none of them could have told you how long they had been there.

Rhaegar only vaguely noted the darkening of the sky as night descended upon them and the stars became visible in the clear night air.

Despite not being certain exactly how long they had been waiting, all noted that the dragon was becoming more and more agitated. His tail was swinging back and forth in a harsh manner and they noted the growls he began to emit. As he continued to breathe out torrent after torrent of dragonfire upon the eggs, they still clearly remained whole and seemingly untouched.

Night had now fully descended and the sky was an inky black; they began to lose heart and hope for the success in their meticulously planned endeavor.

Rhaegar was wracking his mind trying to determine where they had gone wrong in the process. No matter what he thought, nothing stood out to him. They had followed the specified instructions to the letter.

'Was it possible the scrolls lied? Was it merely some ancient hoax?'

How could that be though? Why would anyone go to the trouble to bother to magically hide the instructions from non-magical eyes? To what possible end?

None of that made any sense, and something told him his (at the moment) draconic son was likely to be wondering the exact same thing if the behavior of the clearly enraged dragon before them was any indication.

While in human form his son was able to control his temper with admirable results, he also explained to him that thoughts and emotions when in dragon form were entirely different. Yes, he was still himself for the most part, but he also had to deal with being submerged within the mind and psyche of a primal creature like a dragon who was known to be short-tempered and dominant in nature to an extreme degree. That was especially so compared to a human. It seemed his son was near to the point of rage due to his lack of success.

They all began to look to one another worriedly; Lyanna most of all.

She could tell her son was angry like never before.

He watched as the dragon took in another massive gulp of air; his tail pointing rigidly straight out.

Fire hotter than any he had ever felt before bathed the eggs one final time. Some of the eggs were by now visibly red hot and smoking, but still showing no signs of cracking from their stone-like state.

When the by now exhausted red dragon finished his last burst of fire, he nearly immediately let out an utterly enraged noise that was something of a cross between a piercing shriek and a deafening roar.

All had been forced to cover their ear's at earth-shaking sound

It was at that moment that the most amazing thing happened.

The moment of his son's maddened cry of rage, the cloud that had been obscuring the bright full moon above them moved; revealing an ominous blood red moon that seemed to bathe the ground surrounding them in an unnatural reddish hue.

The moment the pale lunar glow touched the dragon eggs before them...cracks were finally heard!

The bloody color of the full moon did not last long as it somehow shifted back to it's usual silver glow, more and more cracks in the eggs were making themselves known.

At the first sign of the eggs cracking, they had all immediately stood to their feet, but halted almost instantly when they realized the still likely to be enraged dragon stood between them and now-hatching eggs.

Rhaegar tried to contain his fear when he saw Rhaenys and Daenerys walk towards his son in an almost trance-like state. Panic momentarily gripped his heart and he wondered at their sanity to approach an angry dragon in a manner so completely without even a shred of fear.

However, his fears were apparently unnecessary as both extended their hand's to stroke the dragon's red scales lightly.

His son seemed to be instantly calmed at their gentle touch and Rhaegar could almost swear his son was now purring in contentment.

In the next instant, the red dragon disappeared, and the beautiful young silver-haired boy was in it's place with both arms wrapped around Rhaenys and Daenerys respectively as they all stared intently at the currently hatching dragon eggs.

The sight of the hatching eggs and the comfort of the two dearest to his son's heart must have been enough to completely shift his countenance as his next words confirmed.

"Papa! Mama, Grandmother, Visy! Get over here...they're hatching! It's happening!" Jaehaerys exclaimed excitedly; all previous fear and anger gone.

Needing no further encouragement, they all followed his son's instructions.

Rhaegar approached the three already bending down to get a closer look at the hatching eggs and got his first good look at them over the top of his son's head. All six of the various egg shells were beginning to fall to pieces as the baby dragons fought to make their way into the world.

In the instant he laid eyes upon the newly hatching eggs for the first time, he felt the oddest sensation suddenly wash over him.

It was an inexplicable feeling he'd never before experienced.

It was like a pull...a tugging sensation...on his very soul.

He felt his own Valyrian magick's surging through his veins like a fire had taken hold of him. His eye's were entranced on one egg in particular.

The egg he was feeling drawn towards was a mostly black with small red swirls upon it's shell. Ironically enough, Rhaegar thought it to be the inverse colors of his son's own dragon form of a red dragon with black swirls. It was an amazing spectacle to watch; unlike anything else.

When he saw the remainder of the egg fall away as the new dragon came into the world he somehow just knew the dragon was female. He was unaware how he knew that; just that it was so. It was an instinctual knowledge.

By then the remainder of the shells had fallen away as the little dragons all flapped their wings ineffectually; trying their best to come closer to those whom would one day be their riders.

His little black she-dragon made her way closer to Rhaegar and he was reminded of Aegon the Conqueror's Balaerion the Black Dread. The she-dragon was just slightly larger than the rest, (with the exception of his son's little blue dragon he noted that he was now cradling in his arm's).

The black dragon sniffed at Rhaegar's out-stretched hand, before rubbing up against him.

"Balaeria." He whispered; the name coming easily to him and just seeming to be natural.

"Your name shall be Balaeria." He told her.

That seemed to please the dragon as she made a sound akin to a purr while he was gently stroking her scales.

When she looked to be attempting to climb up his arm, Rhaegar lifted the little dragon into his arms as he looked around at his awe-struck family. They all seemed very much pleased with their own little dragons, and from the look on their faces, Rhaegar could tell they also felt a similar type of bond as he did with his own dragon.

Soon enough, they had all gathered back around the rocky seating area; dragons in hand.

Rhaegar looked up and locked eyes with his eldest son.

"You did it, Jaehaerys. You actually did it. For the first time in over one hundred years, you have restored to our house the greatest power we ever possessed. I cannot tell you just I how proud you've made me, Son."

And he was truly proud.

He received a bright grin in response.

"Thank you, Father." He said formally.

"You know, I had been terrified at the end there that something had gone wrong, and feared they weren't going to hatch. It was horrible thinking about losing all our hope's like that...all that time spent wasted...building all this...I have never been so relieved when the moon came back out and the dragons began to hatch." Jaehaerys told him.

"We had faith in you, Little Brother; didn't we, Dany? We knew it would all work out as it was meant to." Rhaenys told her brother.

"Yes, it was Haery though. Of course it was going to work!" Daenerys exclaimed like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Rhaegar couldn't help the deep chuckle of amusement that broke out. Lyanna and Rhaella both smiling at the young princess.

He supposed to her it may well have been obvious.

"Thank you, Rhae. Thanks, Dany." He heard his son mumble blushingly.

It always amused Rhaegar to no end that while his son was normally so confident in most things, give him a compliment or thanks, and he'd become flustered and uncertain of himself; like he was shocked anyone would ever thank him for anything.

They just grinned back at him and stroked their new little friends.

Rhaegar knew they would not remain small for long however. Soon enough, they would one day blot out the sun itself.

"What are you going to name yours, Brother? I've named mine Vermithor!" Viserys told him proudly.

Viserys' dragon was a mossy green color with what Rhaegar thought were yellow looking eyes.

"I've decided to name her, Balaeria. Vermithor is a good, strong name, Little Brother." He replied with a proud look to his baby brother.

During their father's reign, Rhaegar had worried about the influence Aerys was having over his younger son and wondered if history was going to be doomed to repeat itself with the son as it had the father. He was immensely relieved that as Viserys was growing up in a large happy and loving family (as well as not experiencing some of the harsher aspects most exiles would have commonly face); he was turning into a fine young prince. None of the characteristics of their father had been made known (he doubted their mother would have tolerated anything of the sort in any case). He and his mother ensured Viserys was brought up with care and never overly stressed with problems. That had the effect of the younger prince gaining a rather laid back, devil-may-care attitude that was far preferable to any other alternative.

"What about you, Mother? What are you going to call your dragon?" Daenerys asked the Queen.

The Queen smiled brightly at her only daughter.

"Well, my dear; allow me to introduce you to, Meleys." Rhaella said; smiling proudly at her daughter as her young purple toned dragon seemed to look up and around when his mother announced her name for the first time.

"Like the Queen Who Never Was?" Rhaenys asked curiously; always intrigued by anything related to her namesake who she was especially proud to bear the name of.

He smiled at his precocious little girl who was so quickly beginning to grow up on him.

"Just so, Sweetling." Rhaella told her grand-daughter.

"What's your dragon to be called, Rhae?" Jaehaerys asked her with a curious look; eyeing Rhaenys' dragon that was ironically enough made of reds, oranges, and some slight yellows all bright like the flames themselves- or the color's of House Nymeros-Martell.

"Sunfyre." Rhaenys said simple enough as she stared at her dragon and no doubt thinking of her late mother.

He saw Jaehaerys reach over and give her free hand a gentle squeeze as he smiled softly at her.

"A beautiful name, Rhae." Jaehaerys told her sweetly; making Rhaenys look up and smile brightly at her little brother before they both turned curious eyes onto Daenerys.

"Dany?" They asked in unison.

Daenerys smiled widely at everyone as she proudly told them all the name of her dragon.

"Everyone, meet my new friend, Silverwing!" She exclaimed.

His little sister looked absolutely adorable at that moment. All of six name days and with her long silver-blonde curls, her missing front tooth from losing one of her first baby teeth only made her look even cuter. Dany's dragon was of a deep silver color with lighter silver; almost pearlescent wings- aptly named indeed.

"What about you dragon, Haery? Have you decided on a name yet?" Lyanna asked her son as she leaned back further against him and eyed his dragon before looking back to their son curiously.

"Well, Rhaenys and Dany both said I should name my other form first. So, I've decided to call my dragon form Aebraxes. As for this little blue guy here, I think Syrax would fit him just fine. I know Queen Rhaenyra's dragon was a she-dragon and mine's male, but the names are inter-changeable." He answered with a shrug.

Rhaegar could easily see from his son's glowing smile that he was just as proud as Rhaegar was of what his little boy had accomplished. Even though he was he was literally holding a dragon in his arms, it had not quite sunk in yet. What they had _truly_ accomplished...just what the ramifications of what they'd done would undoubtedly be...everything would be different.

With his blue dragon Syrax in his lap as he held Rhaenys with one arm and Daenerys with another, he saw his son lock eyes with the Queen before turning his identical deep violet gaze to him.

Rhaegar could tell just what was on his son's mind at that moment: what they had done had begun to set in.

The others may have been momentarily too enthralled with their new companions, and as they were so very young, their youth excused them from realizing the ramifications; even Viserys at ten and four name days seemed only to be concerned with the green dragon currently in his arms. However, one look into the currently only too serious eye's of his son, and Rhaegar knew he was seeing it too. His mother was shrewd enough that he did not even have to look to know her mind was already running rampant with the calculations concerning new strategies and altered planning they would almost immediately have to begin work on revising. The Game had just been permanently altered.

Where all others had failed, his son...his young genius son of only seven name days...had triumphed in the most spectacular of fashions. Even if they did little else but bide their time, and allow their dragon's to grow to enough of a size; they would win. The Game was now forever altered, and unless someone managed to kill not only all of their dragon's, but their remaining eggs too; Rhaegar now knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he and his son would one day sit the Iron Throne. Mainly due to the efforts of one remarkably special young boy he was so very proud to name as his, nothing would ever be the same again.

Almost as if on cue, all six of the young little cat-sized dragons began to shriek. The dragons were hungry.

One day...they would feast.

In the distant recesses of his mind, Rhaegar could have sworn he heard the roar of fully grown dragons; just waiting to be unleashed.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter VI.**

 **Author's Note-** _Thanks to those who reviewed. This next chapter is a little shorter and more of an interlude and a bit of a filler. It does show just how much Harry's magical abilities have grown and some of what he's capable of. This chapter resolves the JonCon and Faegon question for this fic and is also really the last chapter of their childhood's. While not quite grown, events will have them all forcibly maturing quickly. It's also because I have a hard time writing children and their dialogue, and am ready do get that part over with- again this is a bit of a filler, but necessary. I'll be posting the next chapter hopefully tomorrow. Thanks again!_

 **Disclaimer:** I Own Nothing.

 _Jaehaerys_ _POV. II_

 _Three Years Later_

 _Pentos, 292 AL._

His father, grandmother, and Jaehaerys were all ensconced within his father's solar. He looked up at his dad then and couldn't help his thought's.

'His dyed black hair just looked... _wrong_ somehow.'

Himself, his father, and likely everyone else would be glad when he could be rid of the disguise. He knew that he certainly did not like to have to conceal his identity in public. Their time would come though, of that he had no doubt.

His father looked like something was troubling him.

"Papa, what's troubling you so? I know we have a great deal on our plate at the moment, but you don't usually look so troubled." He asked.

Rhaegar looked at his brilliant son and heir. He hated bringing his battling thoughts to his son's notice, but his mother was right. His boy could handle nearly anything. No man could have ever been prouder of his son than Rhaegar Targaryen was of his beloved boy.

"Your grandmother believes you to be ready to be included in our councils, and I cannot fault her arguments. You are uncommonly intelligent, as you well know, and you often have perspectives none of us would think on." He said.

"Thank you. I shall always help you in any way I am able, Father." He replied with a touch of formality and pride in his tone.

Having parents in his life was such a wondrous experience that he sometimes almost needed to pinch himself to make certain it was all real. He'd never previously experienced authority figures and loved ones being proud of him before, and he always strove to make his father especially as proud of him as possible.

"What's wrong?" He asked again.

Rhaegar let out a deep sigh.

"I have received a rather detailed report from Lord Varys that is both...insidious...and frightening."

"A report of what nature, My Son?" Rhaella asked.

Rhaegar sat behind his desk to fully face his mother and son.

"There is a magister here in Pentos, a Magister Illyrio Mopatis, that Lord Varys had long thought to be a staunch ally. His report's tell us he is in fact anything _but_ an ally. He is an enemy possibly worse than any we've yet faced since our exile began." Rhaegar began worryingly.

"Illyrio, isn't that the magister that spoke up for us in my name to the Council of Magisters?" The Queen asked.

"Indeed, he is Mother. Varys has apparently worked hard for quite some time to discover the truth of the man, for evidently some things were beginning to make him suspicious. Of course, Lord Varys is suspicious of everybody, but he noticed a pattern of discrepancy between word and deed in Illyrio. What he found...well, it is worrying to say the least. It seems as if perchance our old enemy is not quite as dead as we'd have liked to believe." Rhaegar informed them.

The Queen gasped in shock at that revelation, while he was more confused.

' _Old Enemy_ '? Who could he be referring to? Surely not the name that immediately came to mind when thinking of old enemies of House Targaryen? Weren't they all supposed to be dead?

' _Weren't_ _most of you?'_ His own mind retorted sarcastically.

If it was possible for them to fake their death's, who's to say Daemon's line did not do the same?

"You're not speaking of the Usurper, are you Father?"

Rhaegar shook his head.

"No, My Son. He has no ties to the Usurper; at least not any we're aware of. Apparently, Illyrio himself is the last known descendant through the female line (that I was unaware even existed) of Daemon Blackfyre." Rhaegar shocked him by saying.

"That's it? That's all the plotting concerns?" Haery asked his father.

"Would that it was." Rhaegar lamented.

"No, it gets worse. Apparently, Illyrio's second wife, Serra; was the last known descendant of Aerion Brightflame. She was the daughter of Prince Maegor Targaryen; the man's youngest and only surviving child." Rhaegar told them gravely.

"King Maekar's son? The crazy elder brother of Grandmother's grandfather; Aegon the Fortunate? The one who drank wildfire thinking he'd become a dragon? _That_ Aerion Targaryen?" Haery asked shocked.

That was bad. Aerion Brightflame's son, Maegor, potentially had a better claim to the Iron Throne than they did, but the Great Council of 233 bypassed Aerion's son due to his father's madness.

"Rhaegar, did you say that Illyrio's son was Aerion's descendant through the _female_ line?" Queen Rhaella asked piercingly.

Blackfyre's were one thing, they were so far removed by that point, they could barely be called cousins; let alone kin. Aerion's descendants though...they were rather close kin.

"Yes, Mother. The male line thankfully died with Aerion's son, Prince Maegor." Rhaegar replied.

"Neither my father nor my grandfather were ever able to find out exactly what became of Maegor. He was supposed to have joined the Citadel, but went missing right before he was to enter. They traced him in the Free Cities for a number of years till he just vanished. They assumed he'd died. They'd both been worried that he'd produce a son. That would have endangered our own claim...a daughter however...that's much less dangerous. Rhaenyra ruined the only chance we had to restore the old Valyrian succession laws with her failure."

That was as close as you'd ever get to hearing Queen Rhaella utter a word of reprove about Rhaenyra Targaryen, whom she generally admired.

"However, it gets even worse than that." He added.

"Worse?" The Queen asked.

"How could it possibly get worse? Don't tell me one of my Uncle Duncan's children somehow bred into that line of pretenders too?" Rhaella questioned; fury beginning to fill her vein's at the threat so close to her darling son and sweet grandchildren.

Rhaegar actually managed a grin at that.

"No, Mother. We are not _that_ unlucky."

"Thank the god's for small mercies." He heard the Queen mumble near inaudibly

"However, we do face a large problem. Varys has discovered that Illyrio and Serra had a son near to Jaehaerys in age. Apparently, the boy bears all the traditional traits of our bloodline. So much so that the boy is...supposedly...being raised by a somehow suddenly alive Jon Connington aboard some ship pretending to be my so-called... _son_ , 'Aegon'."

The disgust and anger was easily manifest in his father's voice. That those pretenders would take advantage of the memory of his supposedly dead 'son' to try and foist him off on the people of Westeros as Aegon VI was infuriating to Rhaegar.

The eyes of both his grandmother and his own were huge by that point; such was their shock and incredulity.

'This was bad. This was very bad.'

He would have to remedy this before it had the chance to devolve into a true threat to them- by any means necessary.

"Lord Varys is certain the man is truly Lord Connington?" Rhaella asked.

"There is no doubt about it. It is he, or so Varys claim's. He also thoroughly believes the boy to be my son and heir." Rhaegar confirmed.

"Well, he'll be in for quite the shock I'd imagine. Jon Connington was never informed of our ruse, was he? I can't seem to recall if he was let in on the truth or not?" Rhaella asked.

"No, Jon never knew the truth. He thought Aegon to actually be my son. You remember his feeling's towards Elia. I did not fully trust him with such knowledge."

'Ah, yes. He remembered now hearing certain rumors about Jon Connington and his... _affections_...towards his father. He also despised the Princess Elia and thought her unfit. No, he would not have told him the truth either.' Haery thought silently.

The Queen let out an inelegant snort of derisive amusement. His grandmother apparently shared his own opinion of the man.

"Yes, I recall Lord Connington's... _distaste_...for my good-daughter...Or any other young lady that had eyes for you for that matter. I would not have shared the truth with him. He'd have been too tempted to let something... _slip_...where Aerys could have gotten wind of it just to have gotten rid of Elia." Rhaella said.

Rhaegar had no reply to that except to merely nod his head in silent agreement.

"Well, obviously they shall all need to be _dealt_ with, in my opinion at least. Illyrio's assets and contacts are vast, as are his connections to the Golden Company; too vast to ever be allowed to work against us. It would need dealing with _before_ we gave them the offer we were planning on." The Queen said firmly.

His mind was whirling with possibilities. He knew of course that they could simply have Illyrio and the Brightflame-Blackfyre boy killed. He was not too naïve as to not believe such things were at times necessary. However, he also had another idea that just might put them to much better use.

He was also curious about what 'offer' his grandmother was referring to.

"What 'offer' to the Golden Company were you speaking of, Grandmother?" He inquired.

She briefly looked to his father who nodded his head in unspoken permission to inform him.

"Our revenues are now such between the incomes from our shipping enterprises, our fleet's for hire, and the massive returns the canal has brought to us that we are presently in a firm enough financial state to afford to buy out the Golden Company's contract. We planned to put them on permanent retainer. We know that any day now, we could easily be exposed. The Usurper cannot be allowed to learn that there are so many of us alive until we have at least one professional army at our back." The Queen explained.

"Brilliant. If we can now afford that, we can soon begin to step up our plans. The longer Baratheon believes father to merely be Aerys' bastard son, the further our plans may proceed unhindered. With the Golden Company at our disposal, we'd also be able to really step up construction of the new town at Kingsport. We'd not be forced to rely upon quite so many of the Lord Admiral Velaryon's marines to guard it and our people." He agreed.

"Now, I would like for you both to consider something. We could of course simply have this threat disposed of, and be done with it, but I believe I can put them to much better use." Haery told them.

"How could we possibly use them to our benefit?" His father asked while his grandmother raised a curious silver brow.

He swallowed involuntarily. He did _not_ like the thought of using his powers in such a way...in even contemplating doing what he had in mind...but there was _nothing_ he would not do to protect his family. Besides, it was surely better than the alternative for all involved.

"My magic is strong enough now that I know I can do this. You already know I can gain access to a normal persons mind, yes?"

They both nodded their head's in confirmation.

"Well, I'm strong enough now that I can also bend a mind to my will- a normal human's mind anyway. I doubt it would work on anyone with very much magical ability. I know it would not work on any of the family, but I believe Illyrio's blood would be too diluted for it to be able to protect him from my powers. That, I'm certain of. I can _make_ him give us his full and unequivocal support, as well as remove certain facts from his knowledge. He will no longer even _remember_ his connection to the Blackfyre's or his wife's to the Brightflame. With a couple of subtle spells, I can also insure the boy is totally loyal to us always if it proves necessary. Considering his age though, he may not require such methods, and when you combine both sides of his bloodlines...well...he _is_ family and may prove useful. Illyrio would just need to remain in fairly close proximity to my magic some of the time. There would be no need to dispose of them, and we would have access to all of Illyrio's political and financial capital." He explained calmly.

His grandmother looked not only thoroughly intrigued by the prospect, but also deeply impressed. His father on the other hand looked anxious, but did not appear immediately dismissive of the idea either considering what the alternative was.

"You are certain you can do it? If you failed, they'd have to be disposed of immediately. We could not allow the man to find out who I truly am. I don't like the idea of controlling someone like that, but considering what they'd have done to us, and what the man planned to do to us (as well as what we'd have to do to them otherwise)- it is preferable." Rhaegar said with a sigh.

He really did not like the idea of his son having to be involved in such matters, but he supposed it was better than the alternative.

"Yes, I'm certain I can do it." He promised.

"It is agreed then, yes?" The Queen asked.

"Aye." His father said.

"Alright, I shall invite the good magister to tea. I'm certain he'll bring a couple of guards with him but Jaehaerys can handle them easily enough, Unsullied or not." Rhaella told them.

"I'll be ready. It _will_ work. It's better than the alternative, and considering what I'm certain the Magister would likely do to us, I don't have any qualms about it." Jaehaerys told them; standing up as his father and grandmother did the same.

"I don't like it, but you're right, and sometimes we are forced by circumstance to do things we'd rather not. I'm proud of you, Jaehaerys. You'll make a fine king some day." His father told him with a proud look.

"Thank you, Papa. I won't let you down." He replied seriously.

"You never have." Rhaegar said quietly as he hugged his firstborn son close to his side.

Haery watched through a non-descript iron vent set into the wall as his lady grandmother stood to welcome their...guest...as the man and his guard's entered the room. The first through the door were two Unsullied guards in the usual uniform. Following behind them was a monstrously fat man by the name of Illyrio Mopatis that happened to be the reason for the gathering.

Or so he thought. Though, he supposed in a way, he was. Just not the way he was certain the pretender would like.

He had never seem anybody as fat as the man before him in his entire life. Actually, he did not think he'd never seen anyone that fat in _either_ life (and considering how massive he remembered his so-called, ' _uncle_ ' and, ' _cousin_ ' being that was really saying something). He had unending rolls of fat that flowed off the his massive bulk in huge waves. His gargantuan weight was truly enormous. The man had yellow-blonde hair and a forked yellow beard. Haery could smell the man's loud perfumes attempting (and failing) to conceal the disgusting pig of a man's odious and rank stench. Every single finger on the man's bulbous hands were adorned with large bejeweled rings that appeared to him to be an excess of gaudiness. The rich fabric of his expensive robes could have served as a feasting tent, so expansive were they.

All in all, Haery thought the man to be a disgusting parody of the personification of gluttony and greed in all it's decadent excess.

On mere sight alone, he liked him not, and that was without taking in to consideration what the vile man and his aim's would have seen done to his family.

No, he would have no problem bending this filthy mass of flesh masquerading itself as a human to his will. His power's were already swirling around him, eager to do his bidding. The man was sweating profusely from the fire he had asked to be lit in the same room to help him bind his spell's to the beast permanently. He was not going to force his lady grandmother to abide the filth's presence any longer than absolutely necessary.

Not wasting any time, he summoned his magick's into his hands as he began to maintain a steady flow of magic from the veritable ocean of power he normally kept tightly leashed within him.

First, he pointed the index fingers of each hand at the two Unsullied guards; sending what was essentially a modified, raw Stunning Spell at the two eunuchs.

Like puppets whose strings had been cut, they dropped to the floor in unceremonious heaps- now unconsciousness.

He walked to the door that separated him from the hidden spy room and the reception room his grandmother and Illyrio were in.

Opening the door, he again wasted no time in sending a third Stunning Spell at the now-frantic Cheesemonger.

Luckily, the man collapsed against a sofa. He would have feared for the manse's structural stability whilst trying to support his massive bulk if it would have crashed down to the floor. As it was, the man's massive weight still managed to shake the very foundations of the house.

"I'm impressed, Jaehaerys. That was some quick work." The Queen praised her most beloved grandson.

He sent her a smile in smug self-satisfaction.

His royal grandmother always appreciated a job well done.

"I couldn't abide forcing you to endure that odious man's presence any longer than necessary, My Queen." He told her grinning.

"Why thank you, My Prince." Rhaella said; grinning right back at him.

They had a special relationship together. Their mutual love of each other as well as magic and dragons insured that. Each of them both greatly loved their family, and neither of them had any problems using any means necessary to aid in their family's restoration. Both of them would rather take on the more unsavory or unpleasant tasks needed unto themselves rather than force others of their family to compromise their morals. Despite his young age, she knew Jaehaerys had both the power as well as the inclination needed to do whatever was necessary to safeguard their family. He had rather strong moral tenets himself, but after losing so much in his last life, and being well aware of the risks his current life presented, he would not shy away from getting his hand's dirty to protect all those he loved.

That was something Queen Rhaella greatly admired about her firstborn grandson.

He approached the downed bulk of the Cheesemonger and handed his grandmother a pair of gloves.

"I thought you may like these. I need you to prise his eye-lids open while I work on him." He explained to her questioning look.

"Much appreciated." She replied as she set herself to do as her grandson asked.

She had not been looking forward to actually having to physically touch the disgusting pig of a man.

Moments later, he was staring into the still-unconscious man's eyes as he used his own version of legilimency to slip into the fat man's mind.

As an interesting side note, his legilimency powers were aided greatly by what he suspected were abilities inherited from his mother's Stark blood. He had gained the ability to warg into both animals and even people from the ancient blood of the First Men (his Wizarding magic then amplified the ability numerous times over) and when one combined that with Wizarding legilimency, he had an extremely formidable form of the mind arts at his disposal.

This would be his first real test of just what he was capable of when he put his mind to it. Failure was not an option, as the scum below him could never be allowed to bring his nefarious plans for their family to fruition.

He simply would not allow it.

Thankfully, he found the man's own Valyrian-based abilities to be just as he had hoped: entirely negligible to the point of virtually being non-existent. What little ability the man had been born with had never been trained, and had been more or less lost in it's entirety.

He would not face any resistance in the Cheesemonger's mind.

He dived into the man's psyche; delving into the depths of his mind to discover all he would rather keep hidden, as well as all of the very many long-term plans the man and his dubious allies hatched together.

What he found shocked and disgusted him utterly.

The man was foul beyond doubt. He would do anything to get what he wanted and to get what he thought he was 'rightfully due'. He made sure to make careful note of every last detail of the man's plan as well as anything he knew of note or consequence to them.

Once he was certain he had learned all he could, he called upon a truly massive amount of his magic to surge through the man.

The moment he did that, the fire in the grate roared as it shot flames upwards through the chimney like the breath of an angered dragon; feeding off his own emotions of anger and rage.

The fire itself almost seemed to be contemptuous of the gluttonous man and his odious plan's.

His magic burrowed itself into every facet of the man's mind; altering him...changing him on a fundamental level.

Everything about the Cheesemonger that made him who he was, all he'd ever striven towards, and all he'd hoped to gain...all of that was now being altered beyond the scope of repair or hope.

Never again would this man be a threat in any way to his family. Never again would he work from the shadows to plot his insidious desires at the expense of House Targaryen. No more would he act as the puppet master; forcing all to unknowingly dance to his tune.

Now...now _he_ was a puppet.

He had reaped what he had sown.

He was now (and in _all_ ways) the staunchest and most loyal supporter House Targaryen would ever have.

He had no other will but that of pleasing the _true_ member's of the Targaryen Royal Family.

By the time he pulled out of the depraved (though admittedly ingenius) mind of Illyrio Mopatis, he was drenched in sweat as his magic had worked thoroughly to bind the man to his will for the rest of his miserable days.

The only thing he could liken the magic he had just cast to was a distorted, raw version of the Imperius Curse with a mass of permanent Compulsion Charms.

He all but flopped down exhausted into the chair waiting nearby.

"It is done."

"Are you alright, Darling?"

Nothing was worth risking her beloved grandson's health over- not to her anyway.

He gave her a slight smile.

"Yes, Grandmother. I'm fine, merely exhausted. That took alot out of me, but it is done. I learned all we needed to know...and alot I almost wish I did _not_ know. His will had been completely subverted and altered. Never again will he be in _any_ way a threat to our family. He will now be our staunchest supporter... _ever_."

He couldn't quite hold in the slight grin at his accomplishment.

Though exhausting and not something his own morals would allow him to ever do to an actually _decent_ human being, he had just won what was essentially a large victory. That it had been successful was a boon that could prove useful for the future. After all, many of their enemies were rather morally reprehensible in nature. Someone like Tywin Lannister certainly would not bother his ethics in the least.

Also, after learning what he'd just learned, he felt nothing but disgust for bastard laying beneath them.

The Queen was more than impressed with her grandson's magical capabilities. He had such wondrous gifts. She just knew Queen Visenya would have adored her grandbaby. Never before had there been a sorcerer in their bloodline as phenomenally powerful as he. She doubted their ever would be again either.

"Do we have time to...discuss events...while they are out?"

She pointed towards the unconscious trio.

"We've got as much time as we like. They cannot wake till I awaken them."

"Alright, what did you learn? I have a feeling I'm not going to particularly like this."

Her grandson was looking far too pleased with himself for the fat man to have held even a modicum of decency. She well knew that otherwise there was no other way he'd have taken such pleasure from using his powers in manner as forcefully as he had.

He sat back further into his seat as he thought over all he had learned and how best to word it.

"He had many... _many_...plans that were either already in the works or ready to begin. We already knew of course about the man's son. It would have been a brilliant plan, and may even have held the possibility of succeeding, if my father were _actually_ dead like he believes. He has Jon Connington completely convinced he really is raising Father's heir. He hoped that having him raised by Father's supposed, ' _best friend_ ' would lend legitimacy to the Blackfyre boy. Hopefully, when he has seen that Father is still very much amongst the living, his loyalty will force him to accept the truth." He said.

Rhaella nodded her head in concurrence.

"What else was he planning?" She asked him.

"He has many contacts in the Golden Company, just as we expected. Those contacts shall now be used to insure they accept the contract _we_ plan to offer them. It will insure they are now working _for_ us rather than _against_ us. Also, the man controls several of the other Magisters in the City. That will come in very handy for us when we propose our alliance and he sells us the extra land we wish to buy in the gulf between here and Myr to better sustain Kingsport. Our proposal to the Council _will_ carry as his influence amongst the Conclave is vast and far-reaching. Braavos will support it as well. He may even be useful in arranging an alliance with Norvos and Qohor. His own former plans will play well with that."

"That's all very good news. What other plans did he have that may be of aid us?" She asked.

"The vile pig already had plans in place for you, Visy, and even Dany." He all but spat in the fat man's direction.

He had been thoroughly disgusted by that particular bit of knowledge in the man's mind.

"What were those plan's?" Rhaella asked with a small amount of trepidation; alarmed by the loathing that was now present in her grandson's usually happy countenance.

He was normally not one to show such malignant thoughts about anyone. Whatever he had planned must have been truly despicable.

"Firstly, he planned to arrange an 'accident' to befall you quite soon. He believed that would leave Visy and Dany unprotected and with nowhere to go. He also planned to get rid of, 'Daenarion'. Without either you or grandfather's supposed 'bastard' around to help, he felt they'd be ripe for him to sweep in and offer them aid and support. In exchange for that help, he planned to destabilize Viserys- through either hardship or potions or both. He knows Viserys needs a gentle touch, and he planned to turn him in to something resembling Grandfather." Haery spat disgustedly.

Rhaella's eyes had narrowed to near slits at hearing that. She looked like she dearly wished to kill the man and be done with it right then and there.

Nobody messed with her children or grandchildren.

Nobody.

"What he wished to do to Dany though was even worse." He added softly.

"What _exactly_ were his plan's for Daenerys?"

The thought that if they had not intervened...and what that bastard had planned for her children...it sent shivers down her spine.

"His plan's for her were many and dark. You know how the Dothraki have been growing so much bolder of late?" He asked.

"Yes, their raids are getting much worse. They've even begun raiding as far as Pentos itself. In the past, Norvos was as far west as they dared come."

He nodded his head in concurrence.

"Illyrio here, has been subtly encouraging several of the Dothraki Khals; one Khal Drogo in particular. Drogo apparently lead's a large khalassar. It grows stronger by the day. Illyrio has informed Drogo that if he grows his army to sufficient strength, he will ensure a Valyrian bride for the Khal...a Targaryen Princess in fact!"

His blood boiled at the mere thought!

He would _never_ allow some savage to get his hand's on his sweet Dany.

Never!

Rhaella saw her grandson's reaction to that plan and hid a smile. He may not know it yet, but she knew there would never be anyone else for her little girl than Jaehaerys. The bonds held between Jaehaerys, Daenerys, and Rhaenys were special and unbreakable; of that she was certain. He was the only one meant for either of them, just as they were destined for him.

"He planned to convince Visy to actually _sell_ Dany to the Khal, supposedly in return for an army that would never cross the Narrow Sea. He planned for 'accidents' of some kind to befall both Viserys and this Khal Drogo, and to then wed a desperate and completely _alone_ Dany to the Blackfyre boy. Even if some questioned 'Aegon Targaryen's' legitimacy; none could challenge Daenerys' position as a Targaryen Princess. Like I said, his plan's were vile and disgusting, but I cannot deny their brilliance. Especially since it took the Lord Spider himself _this long_ to discover his treachery."

Rhaella would have to admit, beyond the disgust at the man's plan and his action's, they were remarkable and deviously well thought out. The vile excuse of a man was a true Machiavellian.

"Well, I suppose this makes the idea of using the vile man far easier on the conscience. I know your father at least will be able to take some comfort from that." The Queen said.

A noise to the side caused them to both turn their heads sharply in the direction of the sudden disturbance.

Walking out of the door Haery entered from earlier, was his father.

"After everything I've just heard, I can categorically state that I have absolutely no problems whatsoever with using this disgusting excuse of a man thusly. I entered the hidden room from another door as soon as you left, Son. I heard everything. I'm proud of you, Jaehaerys. This man would have been a terrible danger to us and we might have never known till it was far too late." Rhaegar told his son with his paternal pride well evident.

"Thank you, Father. Now, how about we meet our new... _'benefactor'_?"

His amethyst eye's met two sets of matching violet orbs alight with pleasure at the thought of binding this treasonous scum to their own cause after learning what he had planned for them and their family.

"Yes, let's." His father agreed.

He waved his hand first at the Cheesemonger and watched as the man slowly came back to awareness. His new will and loyalty were now forever and firmly in place.

The fat man looked around blankly for a moment before his eye's alighted on the three Targaryen's in the room.

"Hello, Illyrio." Rhaegar said kindly with a patently false smile on his face.

"Allow me to introduce myself and my family. I am Rhaegar Targaryen, rightful King of the Seven Kingdom's of Westeros. These are my mother, Dowager Queen Rhaella Targaryen, and this is my eldest son and heir, the Crown Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen- Prince of Dragonstone. We are so _very_ pleased to make your acquaintance and happy you have so... _generously_...offered us your full support and aid in the re-taking of our birthright and throne." Rhaegar told the man.

His father's charming smile was nearly all teeth.

Haery too was smiling in joyful contentment. They had just brought themselves that much closer to regaining their homeland.

The extremely fat man was down on his knees faster than any of them would have thought possible given his more than impressive girth; bowing his head in obsequious submission.

" _My King, My Queen, My Prince; I live to serve you in all things_." Illyrio swore to them with near-fanatical devotion plainly evident to all three of them.

'Yes, things were now beginning to go their way.' He thought to himself as he smiled down at their formerly treacherous new minion.

He knew events would now be moving forth was increasing rapidity and importance as the race for the Iron Throne truly began. Everything leading to this moment had merely been a warm up. It was time to begin playing for keeps.

Less than a moon's turn from the day he'd bound Illyrio Mopatis to their cause, Haery and Rhaegar were aboard one of their ships heading to a quiet harbor not too far outside of Volon Therys. They had instructed Illyrio to get word to Jon Connington to lay anchor there and await the arrival of some...'important guests'. He and his father had discussed the issue in depth and hoped they'd found an appropriate solution.

They had hope that when Jon Connington laid eye's on Rhaegar and learned that 'Aegon VI' had never actually existed, he'd willingly choose to serve Rhaegar once more.

It was up to Haery to determine the fate of the boy. Going by what he learned in Illyrio's mind, he learned that the boy was quite close to his own age; being less than one name day older. From what he'd seen, the boy was luckily not anything like his degenerate father. That was certainly a blessing as Haery never would have bothered with someone even a bit like the Cheesemonger.

He'd learned that it had only been quite recently that the boy himself had been told of his supposed 'real identity'. It worked in their favor that the boy was having a difficult time believing what he'd been told. He could understand that. The boy had lived all of his life believing that Jon Connington was his true father, only to be told it had all been a lie for his purported 'safety'.

He would scan the boy's mind to determine if he really was a threat to them or not. If he was accepting of his real identity, than Haery had no problems allowing him to come live with them. The boy was kin. As the descendant of both King Maekar through the Brightflame, and Aegon the Unworthy (not to mention the Dragonbane) through Daemon Blackfyre's line. They had agreed to name the boy a Targaryen cousin and Prince of the Blood should he prove to be loyal and worthy of the honor. Considering what he'd seen in the mind of the boy's father, he appeared to be a good-natured and easy-going young lad, he had hope that he'd be amenable to his change in circumstances.

Haery himself certainly would not mind having a boy of his own age around. While his best friends were...and always would...be Rhaenys and Daenerys, there were not any other boys his own age to befriend. His younger brother Aelyx was the closest in age to himself, and he was three full name days younger than Jaehaerys. While that may not sound like much of an age gap, considering he was only nine, given his own intelligence and ' _past experiences_ ', it was somewhat difficult to connect to a normal six year old such as his next to oldest sibling. Aelyx himself was closer to little Valarr and Valaerie than to his elder brother or sister, though that in no way meant he did not love all his siblings and they him- he did. He was just not as close to them due to the age disparity. He did have hope that time and age would change that as they all grew older. Viserys was the closest thing to a brother he'd ever had, and he was a great deal older than him.

He could now see the vessel they were approaching; _the Shy Maid_ , it was called.

"Here, Son. Put this on before we reveal ourselves. I need to make certain he is the real Jon Connington and not an imposter or an enemy." Rhaegar told him as he handed him a hooded black cloak of the appropriate size.

"Yes, Papa." He agreed; taking the dark cloak and putting it on over his clothes and making sure his distinctive silver-blonde hair was fully covered.

He'd be so glad when they no longer had to ever worry about disguising their identities.

It had gotten very old, very fast. He also hoped he'd be able to take off the damned cloak quickly as it was bloody hot. There was very little in the way of a breeze, and being this far south meant it was sweltering. He doubted his Northern blood helped. His mother sometimes looked like she was about to go crazy with the heat of an Essosi summer. Of course, to her it was also quite a normal to see snowfall in the middle of summer. He just could not fathom _snow_ in the _summer_. It just didn't seem possible, but he had been assured it was quite common in Winterfell. He definitely looked forward to seeing such a thing for himself one day.

Slowly, their ship laid anchor at the small pier where the _Shy Maid_ was docked.

The men raised a gangplank from their warship to the docks, and he joined his father to make their way over toward the much smaller vessel moored on the other side of the pier.

Walking out into the sun, he saw a man that looked to be around his father's age with what he assumed was dyed blue hair awaiting them.

To him, the hair color looked absolutely ridiculous as he was fairly certain the man was a natural red-head; which would mean that the man standing before them really was the supposedly deceased Jon Connington.

His first glimpse of Jon Connington was not what he would describe as a pleasant looking man. He looked aggravated and short-tempered by the way he seemed to be grinding his teeth.

He was humorously reminded of his grandmother's description of Cousin Stannis. He doubted Connington would care for the comparison.

He was relatively well-built; indicating that he had at least kept himself in decent enough shape. He was also considerably shorter than his father was. Of course, most people were considerably shorter than his father.

As they approached, he saw the man's eyes getting wider and wider by the moment as his mouth hung open in dumb-founded shock.

He'd obviously recognized his father.

"Rhaegar? No...No, it can't be..." Connington trailed off uncertainly looking as if he'd seen a ghost.

He supposed that in a way, that was exactly what he was seeing.

Considering his father merely nodded his head and beckoned him to follow him onto the other ship for more privacy, he assumed his father was now assured that the stricken man before them was indeed the real Jon Connington.

He followed his father obediently as they walked onto the smaller ship.

Rhaegar led them over to a more secluded area of the deck. Once there, his father nodded to him, and they both removed the hoods of their cloak in unison.

Jon Connington's eyes nearly bugged out of his head when he saw the two of them standing there side by side in all their Valyrian-blooded glory.

"My Prince! How? How are you...how are you even alive, let alone here?" Connington asked amazed.

"Ah, Jon. I have missed you my friend. Allow me to introduce to you my eldest son and heir, the Crown Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen. Son, this one of my oldest friend's, Lord Jon Connington of Griffin's Roost."

If possible, the man's eyes widened even further when his father introduced him. He did not fail to notice his eye's narrowed slightly in something resembling suspicion. No doubt the man planned on informing them that he was _not_ in fact, Rhaegar's heir.

He almost found the situation amusing. He could already tell that he just did not particularly like this man much at all.

Chairs were brought out and once everyone was seated, his father began to speak again.

"After Cousin Robert defeated me on the Trident, I awoke upon my funeral pyre unharmed and mostly healed. There had been legends in my family that such things were possible for the old Dragonlord's powerful in sorcery, but I had never placed much stock in such things. I'm certainly a believer now. Ned Stark saved me, and then sent me to Dragonstone where my family was residing. I was greatly relieved when I arrived. Ser Jaime had helped Elia secret away Rhaenys. She sent her to my then second wife Lyanna, who was in Dorne at that time. When Rhaenys arrived, Lyanna had the Kingsguard repair them back to Dragonstone. Not long afterwards, she gave birth to Jaehaerys. Now, my mother with my brother and sister, my wife and our five children, all live in our manse in Pentos. That's the quick version of events." Rhaegar told his old squire who was hanging on to his every word in rapt attention.

"My Prince...I...I don't know what to say, except that I am supremely grateful Your Grace survived. God's be good, it is a miracle I never dared to even hope for! I must confess something to you though My Prince, this boy...this boy is _not_ your heir. Your eldest son yet lives. I have been raising Crown Prince Aegon these past four years mostly aboard this boat." Connington said as he cast a glace at his best friend's supposed, 'eldest son'.

Connington appeared to be highly confused to see the boy smirking at him with a knowing look.

He knew Connington probably thought he would be upset that he was soon to be set-back in the line of succession.

"Ah, yes. That farce."

Rhaegar's voice was clipped and cold just then.

He looked out over the water for a moment before returning back to the conversation at hand.

"Frankly, Jon. I'll never understand how you could confuse 'Young Griff' as a son of mine. You have been played by the Magister in Pentos. The boy's a Brightflame on his mother's side, and the last Blackfyre on his father's." Rhaegar told him calmly.

"What? Preposterous! He...he...that's not possible! He _is_ Aegon! He is! I know it! He has been raised as your successor and heir! He..." Connington interrupted fiercely; standing up and looking quite panicked and perturbed all of a sudden.

For a moment, Haery thought he saw a slightly mad glint in Connington's eyes.

Of course, he supposed when told that the sole purpose of one's life and all their dream's are essentially horse-shit, one would have a difficult time accepting matters to the contrary.

"Sit down, Lord Connington!"

Rhaegar's voice was iron, and brooked no opposition.

Haery had to restrain a snicker. Even at he and the girl's worst pranks, they'd never been subject to _that_ tone.

'Ohhh, someone's woke the dragon.'

Connington seemed so stunned he complied instantly.

His father sighed deeply.

"I will tell you again, _you_... _have_... _been_... _played_."

"Do you not think I'd not know about mine own child? Aegon VI Targaryen never existed. Elia could no longer bear children after the birth of the Princess Rhaenys. Had my father known...well, I believe you can imagine just what he'd have done to her. That was why she had no problem with me taking a second wife. She knew I needed an heir. For the time being, we faked her second pregnancy with the help of my mother and the maester on Dragonstone who was more loyal to me than my father or the Citadel. No one else was aware until I married Lyanna. No one else _could_ have been made aware. It was simply too dangerous. The boy you remember as Aegon was the twin brother of Aurane Waters, the Bastard of the Driftmark. _That_ was whom was murdered within the Red Keep by that mad dog Clegane. Rhaenys was swapped with one of Prince Lewyn's illegitimate grand-daughter's. Jaehaerys most assuredly _is_ my eldest son and heir."

Rhaegar's tone was matter-of-fact and absolute.

Jon Connington looked positively devastated and shocked beyond belief by all he had just been told as he sat there motionless in his chair.

A shock of blue hair darting away in the corner of his vision caused Haery to quietly take his leave to allow his father to discuss things further in private with his old friend whilst he went in search of whom he had a suspicion was the boy he had come here to meet.

He had a feeling he had been listening in, and had consequently heard his father's words to Lord Connington. He could only imagine how the boy must be feeling; being told you whole life was a lie not once, but twice!

He would try and find some way to help the poor boy because he was truly innocent in all of Illyrio's schemes. Also, regardless of anything else, the boy _was_ his family, and that meant something to him after living an entire lifetime devoid of any familial affection or care.

He went below deck and followed the path he suspected the boy had fled towards.

Really, he had no idea what he was supposed to say to the poor lad.

When he came to a hallway, he stopped and listened quietly.

There, at the end of the narrow corridor with the door just slightly ajar, he thought he could hear sniffling.

He slowly crept through the darkened corridor until he stood before the door.

Steeling his resolve, he cracked the door open a little more and took in the scene before him.

Laying down on a small bed was the blue-haired boy with his arm's wrapped tightly around what appeared to be a small stuffed red dragon.

Haery quietly made his way into the small quarters and sat down on little bed next to the boy.

When he felt someone sit down next to him, the blue-haired boy shot up like he'd been scalded; looking around with an all too desolate look in his eyes.

Looking at Jaehaerys, his blue-violet eye's widened in shock.

Haery couldn't help feeling his heart break a little for the other boy as he watched his lower lip tremble. After all, his whole world had just been shattered.

He was visibly reminded of another boy that lived in a broom cupboard once upon a time that had also been lied to all his life. He remembered how that boy had once so longed for even a single true friend that would have made all the difference to the lonely boy in the cupboard.

He gave him a small smile.

"Hello." He told him quietly.

He seemed stunned that he was speaking to him and looked as if he didn't quite know how to reply.

"Hi." He replied shyly.

"Your name's Aegon, right? Like the Conqueror?"

Of course he had known the boy's name, if that was what it really was. He'd been called that all his life so he supposed there was no harm in keeping it as such.

The boy looked at him warily.

"Yes." He whispered, his voice even quieter.

"I'm sorry you had to find out something like that in such a manner. I can't say I know exactly how you feel, but it's alright to be upset or confused."

"You're Rhea...Rhaegar's _real_ son?" The boy asked.

"Yeah, he's my dad. You know...we all have to live in hiding too." He told him; hoping to find some common ground between them.

The boy widened his eye's at that.

"Really?"

"Yeah, we'd likely all be killed by the Usurper otherwise."

"Can I ask you something?" The boy inquired.

"Sure, you can ask me anything you want." He told him easily enough.

"If...if I'm not really Aegon...err, I mean if there never was an 'Aegon Targaryen'...Who am I? Griff...er Jon only told me I was Aegon Targaryen nearly a year ago. Before then...before then, I just thought my name was Young Griff. I think I was happier when I was just Young Griff anyway."

The last part was whispered almost to himself more than him.

"I'm not entirely certain, I mean I don't know both of their exact names, but I do know that your mother was by rights a Targaryen Princess. Her name was Serra and she was the grand-daughter of Prince Aerion Targaryen. Her father was Prince Maegor." He told him.

No need to bring up the Brightflame's madness just then.

His eye's widened at that.

"And...and my father?" He asked.

"Well, I know your father was the grandson of Maelys Blackfyre; the last male Blackfyre. Through him you are descended from Aegon IV and the Dragonbane." He explained further.

"You know what?" He asked the boy with a smile.

"What?"

He appeared to be still trying to wrap his young mind around all he'd been told.

"We are family though. You are my cousin on both sides. You may not be who you had been told you were, but that does _not_ mean your not still a dragon. You are a dragon too; just like me." He told him; smiling even wider as he pointed towards the stuffed dragon he was still holding on to.

The boy eye's had gone huge at that and he could see the makings of a smile beginning to form on his face.

"Really?" He asked.

"Really. If you would like to, you can come and live with us. We're building a new city and we even have our own real live dragons too! We _are_ family, and I don't have hardly any friends my own age, only my sister Rhaenys and my aunt Dany. I have younger brothers and a younger sister, but their not very old."

He had entered the boy's mind when they locked eyes. What he saw made up his mind beyond any doubt. The boy before him was truly an innocent. He was sweet and good-natured and did not hold any malicious thoughts. If he gained that boy's loyalty, he'd be more true and loyal than most men were capable of. He was also so very lonely and had reminded him a great deal of himself as a child when he was Harry Potter. He'd not wish such loneliness on another child ever.

"You have real dragons? Really? That's amazing! I'd love to see a real live dragon!"

He smiled at Aegon's enthusiasm. All Targaryen's were obsessed with dragons, even his regal grandmother would still sometimes play with her dragon with child-like wonder plainly visible in her eye's.

"You would really want me around? Even though somebody was trying to trick your family by using me?" He whispered.

The boy was apparently fairly intelligent too if he was able to put the pieces together so quickly for the only reason someone would have attempted such a ruse.

"Absolutely! Like I said, I don't have any boys around my own age, and we are family regardless of anything else, and I protect my family."

He gave him an easy smile and he meant what he promised him.

"Could Griff come too?" He asked shyly.

"Of course. He's one of my father's best friends. Just remember, you're our family. You'll always be welcome with me." He told him.

What he did next shocked him.

Without warning, the other boy all but dived over to him and wrapped him in a hug.

"Thank you! I promise I'll be a good cousin, and an even better friend! I don't have any other friends either; not even girls. I'll be the best friend you ever had!" He promised him.

His naturally boisterous and happy nature seemed to have returned full force with his acceptance.

He couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him anymore than he could help the fact that he found the other boy to be a delightful breath of fresh air. He was completely different to anyone else he knew in either life. He also reminded him so very much of just how desperate a young Harry Potter had been to have friends and people that would care about him in his past life.

He also could not explain it, but he felt an inexplicable connection to the sweet young boy when he hugged him.

Death's word's briefly flashed through his mind as he remembered being promised a life-long friend unlike any other he'd ever had that would always be more loyal to him than any he'd ever known.

He had a distinct feeling that he'd just met that life-long friend. He'd just be glad when those he was closest to were a bit older and he'd not be forced to pretend as much as he did about his own maturity level.

He gently hugged the other boy back before they broke apart and grinned at one another.

"I think you'll make a great friend." He told the boy with a bright smile of his own now gracing his face.

Aegon beamed even brighter at him as he held out his hand to shake.

"Do you have a nickname? Jaehaerys is kind of a mouth full" He asked Haery curiously.

He raised an amused silver brow before he replied.

"My sister call's me Jae."

"Okay then. Friend's, Jae?" He asked with his hand still held out.

He gave his new friend a genuinely warm smile as he shook his out-stretched hand.

"Friend's, Egg." He agreed.

If he was going to endure another nickname then so would he.

Aegon scrunched up his nose at his own nickname, but then merely shrugged his shoulders in careless gesture not at all bothered.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his father looking on from the doorway with a soft smile and one of the proudest looks in his eye's that he'd ever seen directed towards him.

He shot him a subtle wink.

He knew that while it may take the lad a bit of time to become acclimated to them and grow enough that he'd not feel such an age disparity mentally; he also somehow just knew that he'd gained a true friend in this life. While he adored his girl's whole-heartedly, he did sometimes wish for another boy of his own age to be around. He had no doubt that he'd gained just such a companion in Egg.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter VII.**

 **Author's Note-** _Thanks to those who reviewed. This next chapter is a really their first foray into international relations and the decisions made in this chapter will lead very soon to war. Events will soon no longer be within their power to control as Westeros learns the truth of them._

 **Disclaimer:** I Own Nothing.

 _Three Years Later_

 _The Dragon's Nest- 100 miles outside of Pentos_

 _295 AL._

 _To His Grace King Rhaegar I Targaryen, First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm-_

 _I pray this letter finds Your Grace and Your Grace's family well. I fear I must write to give Your Grace words of both advice and caution. Events in Westeros continue apace, and the Kingdoms are ever-devolving into a further state of disunity. At present, Baratheon rule is tenuous at best. As the Usurper drinks and whores his way thru the Kingdom's ever-decreasing wealth, Lannister influence continues to grow unchecked as he places the country further and further into the debt of both Tywin Lannister as well as the Iron Bank. The revenues of Storm's End have long since been wiped out by the unchecked spending and largesse of House Baratheon leaving Lord Stannis as the only remaining Baratheon that retains solvency._

 _Apart from that, the debt has caused taxes to be imposed at rates never before witnessed. The small-folk of Kings Landing especially are brought lower than one can imagine. It is not uncommon these days to even hear them lament the loss of Your Grace's late father of all people! At present, the realm is akin to a boiling pot wildfire. It will only take but a single spark to ignite the flames of destruction from within. Most believe that as long as Robert Baratheon remains alive, nothing will ever be altered. It is thought by most that the Stark-Tully-Arryn-Baratheon alliance along with the Baratheon-Lannister union will maintain the current regime indefinitely._

 _Nothing could be further from the truth._

 _Tywin Lannister has learned of late (from various hints and clues dropped by my little bird's as per Your Grace's instruction as well as the scene he 'inadvertently' walked in on) of the true origins of Cersei Lannister's children. My source's have confirmed that when presented with unequivocal proof, he did indeed confront both Cersei as well as Ser Damion Lannister, and only spared Damion's life at the behest of his faithful brother Ser Kevan- who invoked the late Lady Joanna to stay his hand due to the fact that Damion was her favorite brother's child. It is known that he ordered Cersei to get herself with a child born of the Usurper's loins as soon as possible regardless of her will. Luckily, it is not nearly as easy for her to actually lure her husband into their marital bed as it once might have been due to the Usurper's now well known aversion to the mere sight of his Lannister Queen. She was also ordered by her father that in no uncertain terms was she to ever do anything that would bring harm to the Usurper, or knowingly allow anyone else to harm the Usurper in any way. Tywin is intelligent enough to know that without at least one true-born child of the Usurper, they would never be able to hold the Iron Throne without Robert and his 'allies' (such as they are anymore)._

 _To that end, the Small Council grows ever more suspicious of the continuing growth and prosperity of the North. The lust and greed can easily be seen on the faces of both Lord Tywin and the Usurper himself when they are given reports of massive amounts of gold Lord Stark and his 'investors' are making by way of the new canal. Never before has the North been courted by so many of the Free-Cities as they are at present. They also well know that although their may have been a mild and superficial rapprochement between Lord Stark and the Usurper during the Greyjoy Revolt, that relations with Winterfell are still nearly as distant as those with Sunspear; that the Usurper is king 'in name alone' of at least two of the Seven Kingdoms._

 _As to the Usurper's other 'allies', both Hoster Tully and Lord Jon Arryn are gaining well into their final years of life. With the 'unfortunate' demise of Ser Edmure Tully and the absolute refusal of the Blackfish to take a wife, it is known that the only possible heirs of Riverrun are the children of Lord Stark. Considering the fact that the Lady Lysa has still yet to produce a living legitimate child, Jon Arryn's only real heir is Lord Benjen Stark (or Your Grace's own children with the Princess Lyanna), this will force a greater amount of caution for both Lannister and the Usurper himself. At the insistence and behest of the Lady Lysa, Lord Arryn has named a man by the name of Petyr Baelish, to the recently vacated position of Master of Coin._

 _I have many suspicions about the man, only some of which are confirmed. He is a flesh-peddler of the worst sort and owns the largest establishment of brothels in all the Seven Kingdoms. He was a former ward of Hoster Tully, and I have confirmed that he is indeed the lover of the Lady Lysa. He was the original father of the bastard she bore in her girlhood. As Your Grace no doubt remembers, it was Petyr Baelish that challenged (and lost) a duel with the late Heir of Winterfell, Lord Brandon Stark. I believe he may have some connection to the Tully Conspiracy that ignited the flames of the Usurper's Rebellion. Signs of the Mockingbird's (Baelish) involvement are many. I can already confirm that our new Master of Coin has very cunningly began to embezzle ever-increasing amounts of gold from the Royal Treasury. It is failing to be noticed as he is forging many documents as well as bribing certain key members of the Treasury. However, I have alerted our contacts within the Iron Bank of this fraud. When the time is right, the man's accounts shall be seized to repay both the bank and the Treasury, and his business's shall all become the property of the Crown; distasteful as that may sound. With Your Grace's leave, I shall leave the Mockingbird free to dig his own grave as deep as he is able._

 _In an unrelated note. I have dealt with several more individuals who were in the paid service of our enemies, and planned to bring the existence of Your Grace and the Royal Family to the notice of the Usurper to curry his favor. This is far from the first time something of this nature has occurred, and I am certain it shall not be the last. Too many of the wrong people are discovering things they should not; especially of late. I foresee that in the near future, it shall be necessary to bring Your Grace's existence before the Usurper in order to maintain mine own cover. To that end, I urge Your Grace to step up whatever plans you may be involved with to strengthen Your Grace's reign and power as I'm certain they shall be needed in the near future._

 _I expect the Usurper's first desire will be to sail to Essos and make war upon Your Grace immediately. However, that is highly unlikely to ever be allowed. Many of his lords simply would not follow him into an unprovoked war with a man most will not even believe is still alive without seeing Your Grace with their own eyes in the current climate. Especially not when they realized they would be far outnumbered in battle at sea. I believe his next reaction will be to demand answers, and then satisfaction, from Her Grace's brother, Lord Eddard Stark. Again, he would be met by opposition. This time even in the form of Jon Arryn himself (who is still on relatively good terms with Lord Stark despite his falling out with his former foster-brother). House Arryn's ties to House Stark are by far stronger than their ties to House Baratheon or House Lannister. Neither the Riverlands nor the Vale will make war on the North when their heir's are both Stark's of Winterfell._

 _That being the case, I expect an uneasy state of cold war to exist. The moment the Usurper declares any hostile intentions on the North, Sunspear shall immediately cease any and all communication between itself and the Iron Throne. The message will be clear to all. The Usurper will then be faced with the daunting prospect of attempting to invade the two most easily defensible kingdoms that are nearly invulnerable without something like dragons and with very little in the form of allies that are not Lions._

 _When, and if that occurs- I believe that shall be the best time for Your Grace's forces to strike._

 _I have little doubt that very soon Tywin Lannister will be all but insisting that the Usurper's 'son' Joffrey 'Baratheon' take the Lady Margaery of House Tyrell to wife. No doubt he will believe the might of the Reach shall succor them. However, the Tyrell's are not nearly as strong as they would have everyone believe, and they are most definitely not well liked amongst their own bannermen. Houses Tarly, Rowan, Florent, and even House Hightower itself would be easily persuaded to the Dragon's Banner once more in defiance of House Tyrell due to the over-reaching of the Lady Olenna and the grasping of Lord Mace. That would undermine much of the Lannister's potential support._

 _In conclusion, I urge Your Grace to begin making plans. To my best estimation, Your Grace likely has approximately three years in which to grow Your Grace's foreign support. It would likely be in Your Grace's best interests to work as quickly as possible with little regard for secrecy. I shall endeavor to give Your Grace as much time as possible before the Usurper is allowed to learn the truth. During that time there is a great deal Your Grace and the Royal Family have time to accomplish if the efforts are done as quickly as possible. News from Essos is slow-travelling, often conflicting, and sparse. I pray Your Grace's travels are swift and expedient if only to avoid as much bloodshed of Your Grace's subjects as possible, as I know that is always on the forefront of Your Grace's mind._

 _Ever Your Grace's Humble Servant and Master of Whispers_

 _Varys~_

Underneath the Eunuch's signature was the sigil of a spider.

Rhaegar sat back in his seat at the head of the table after he finished reading the Spider's latest report aloud to his advisor's; many of which now appeared to be deep in thought.

"Three years, he say's. I would estimate that is the absolute maximum length of time we may have. So, the question now remains, what do we accomplish in those three years?" Rhaegar asked those gathered round the conference table.

Sitting at the table, those included were; Queen Rhaella, his father, his mother, Rhaenys, Dany, Viserys, Jon Connington, the leader of the Golden Company- Harry Strickland, Grand Admiral Lucerys Velaryon, Ser Gerold Hightower, Ser Arthur Dayne, Ser Barristan Selmy, Ser Mark Ryswell, the Lady Ashara, Ser Jaime, Lord Gerion, and Lord Tyrion Lannister, Prince Oberyn Martell, his uncle Lord Benjen Stark, Cousin Stannis' representative- Ser Courtenay Penrose, and himself.

Rarely were so many of their supporter's ever gathered in the same place as it was generally too dangerous.

"For one thing Your Grace, I would suggest we employ more workers to expedite finishing the docks and the planned expansion of Kingsport. The moment the Usurper receives confirmation of Your Grace's existence, we shall need to recollect the entire fleet at its full strength. Presently, the harbor and docks aren't anywhere near large enough to accommodate the sheer size of our full fleet." Admiral Velaryon suggested.

His father nodded his head in agreement.

"Since we are no longer to be quite as concerned with preventing our apparently inevitable discovery; put out the word. Hire as many as are necessary to have the port fully functioning. I'll order the necessary funds to be disbursed." Rhaegar said.

"Yes, Your Grace." Lord Velaryon intoned.

"If Your Grace's are still willing to fund it, we can begin the necessary recruitment for the secondary company now. We have enough space, and can easily build anymore we need here. It will be costly, but if House Targaryen can foot the bill, our contact's have the basis for enough interests to complete the task. Some of your own men will be necessary for their training of course, since you desire them to be the forces of House Targaryen alone." Harry Strickland said gruffly.

"Agreed. I'll set up the account with the Iron Bank to fund the new company. Ten thousand well-trained swords will be needed sooner rather than later. Lord Connington and Ser Richard Lonmouth will be in over-all charge of over-seeing it from our end. The Magister's of Pentos will keep it all as quiet as possible for as long as they can." Rhaegar informed them.

"Rhaenys, Daenerys, Jaehaerys; how goes the dragons?" Rhaegar asked them as they were whom saw to most of their training and upkeep.

Of course they had to do all the training in the hills well away from their current residence. The only group to their knowledge that ever managed to actually see the dragons (that they had not invited anyway) were a tribe of passing by Dothraki. They had been terrified and had run their horses as hard as they could in the opposite direction; thereby proving that the barbarians were smarter than they looked.

"Very well, Father. Nearly... _too_ well in fact. They're large enough to ride by now, as you know. We're going to have to begin their serious training soon. You know the dangers of not properly training them with experienced riders as well as I do. I doubt it will be more than a year before all the nearby Free-Cities are very much aware of their existence. Even living this far out, they're simply _too large_ to keep quiet very long, and they're only growing bigger. Syrax can already nearly blot out the mid-day sun all by himself ." Rhaenys informed him.

Rhaegar nodded his head thoughtfully; a small smile playing on his handsome features at the thought of riding his dragon, Balaeria. Haery swore every Targaryen turned into a small child anytime dragons were mentioned; himself included of course. Mayhaps _especially_ him.

"Excellent Rhaenys! Truly excellent. Just try and keep them quiet as long as possible. That's the best we can hope for as there is no way to keep something as large as a fully grown and mounted dragon quiet for long; let alone the number of them that we have."

He knew Rhaegar felt the same as the rest of them; never feeling more alive and vibrant as when they took to the skies on dragonback. It was the most remarkably exhilarating experience.

"Now, I believe my heir has a proposal he wishes for us to hear him on, do you not Jaehaerys?" His father asked him.

"Yes, Father; My Lord's and Lady's." He said with a firm nod of his head as he stood and looked across the table to all those gathered.

"When we make to return to Westeros, we will have a large number of powerful allies that shall be meeting us. However, especially in the beginning, whatever opposition we face, we shall do so alone. We will fight with only whatever armies we bring with us ourselves. Our strongest ally is the North, but the sheer size of that kingdom makes gathering it's full strength a slow and ponderous thing. If my great grand-uncle Jon Arryn is still alive at that time, we might not even _have_ the support of the Vale itself, and the god's forbid Old Man Tully somehow manages to cling to life. Our only absolute and guaranteed allies besides Cousin Stannis are Dorne and the North; the two kingdoms that are the furthest from one another than any other of the Seven Kingdoms.

Now, while I have no doubt that we will still have many loyalists, nothing is written in stone. The only thing we _can_ be certain of upon landing on Westerosi shores are what _we_ bring with us. We will have the might of the Golden Company, the new forces that will soon begin recruitment and training, and whatever number of marines accompany the landing fleet. At most, that will be a force of twenty-five thousand men: ten thousand of the Golden Company, ten thousand of the new regiments, and possibly up to five thousand marines.

I would like to have at least near another ten thousand heavily trained men to land with us. With those extra men, there is virtually no force that would be capable of repelling us back into the sea as fast as we're like to land."

His explanation garnered a good number of confused looks.

"Where would you suggest we gain this extra force of ten thousand men, My Prince? Raising the new company of ten thousand will be a difficult enough endeavor all by itself- to say nothing of doubling that number." Jon Connington asked in usual brusque manner.

"I am aware of that, Lord Connington. I propose something that will grant us those extra numbers, and an army better trained and disciplined than any other in the known world. However, some of you may be uncomfortable with what I am suggesting, but I would have you hear me out before you dismiss it out of hand or refuse to consider it." He cryptically informed those present.

He noticed several narrowed eyes and more thoughtful looks. Harry Strickland though looked contemplative and he was certain the Golden Company Leader had figured it out for himself. His next words proved that true.

"You speak of the Unsullied, do you not, My Prince?" Strickland stated more than asked.

He nodded his head in agreement.

"Aye, it is the Unsullied to which I refer..."

He doubted anyone heard him from the cacophony of noise the reference to the Unsullied unleashed around the table.

All around him, the various numbers of their supporter's were loudly decrying even the mere idea of landing in Westeros with any amount of slave-soldiers. None could be heard over the loud and determined voices of their neighbors. The noise continued to raise higher in volume as everyone present seemed to want to make themselves heard over the ever-increasing din. He allowed that to go on for another moment or two before he took back control of council.

He knew his father was staying silent on the matter presently to allow him the opportunity of experiencing command and control of a council such as the current assembly. It was good preparation for the future he supposed. Of course, he also had his own method's of silencing a group like those present with far more ease than most would have, even if some might call it 'cheating' (Aelyx).

He pulled deep within the well of magic within him and forced his magic to resonate with his voice.

When he next spoke, his word's were loud and commanding; near magically-demanding instant obedience from the truculent lords.

"Enough!"

Haery's voice boomed above them all.

"You will be silent and listen when the Heir to the Iron Throne speaks, or you _will_ be removed!" He demanded of them with just a spark of compulsion laced within his speech.

The silence that followed was near instant and total.

"Thank you. Now, if you'd allow me to finish, you'd understand exactly what I am really proposing. I would _never_ suggest bringing _slaves_ to our homeland. _Never_! What I am suggesting is that we arrange contact with the Unsullied. What I propose is this: I propose travelling to Astapor and treating with the 'Good Masters'. Do not concern yourselves with _how_ the Unsullied are to be gained; only that they _will_. The Unsullied are _by far_ the best disciplined and hardest trained soldiers in the known world. It is a fact; despite the disgusting forms of 'training' I am aware of that they are forced to endure.

Know this: I absolutely _despise_ slavery in all it's forms. I loathe it utterly, and I would like nothing better than to free every slave in the world. While I can't do _that_ , I _can_ free the Unsullied.

Once control of the Unsullied forces are gained by us, I would offer them their complete and total freedom. Any that wish to leave for different parts of the world would be free to do so. However, many of them have nowhere else to go. Most of them no longer _have_ any families to which they may return. I would offer all of them places in our armies as freed men. Payment, food, and housing would be offered to any that wished to serve with us. I would offer them permanent placement as part of Crown's Royal Guard. As they age, they would be given either pensions or set up in the trade of their choice and land bestowed upon them in return for their services to House Targaryen. I have a feeling many of them would rejoice at such an opportunity and that most would remain as part of our forces.

 _That_ is how I would begin not only the foundations of the Iron Throne's permanent standing army, but also grant freedom and new opportunities to any former Essosi slave that would like to find a new life in Westeros- the same opportunity granted to all our ancestors since the arrival of the First Men to the Western Continent." He finished in conclusion the makings of the plan that had been in his mind for quite some time.

Ever since he learned something of the despicable forced 'training' the Unsullied endured, he had thought long and hard of a way to end such suffering forever. No one should ever be forced to endure what they did.

His proposition was met by total and complete silence as many around the table attempted wrap their minds around what exactly it was that the young, but brilliant Crown Prince was suggesting.

Never before had the Iron Throne maintained any real type of a standing army.

For one thing, it was commonly cost-prohibitive. For another, they generally only had the lands of the Crownlands themselves from which to gather Targaryen troops from. That would be changing soon, though most at the table were unaware of _those_ plans. (Whatever was left of House Tully was sure to be disappointed.) Never again would something like the loss House Targaryen suffered during the Rebellion be allowed to occur. In order to insure that such a thing never came to pass again, the lands under the direct vassalage of the Iron Throne would be greatly expanded.

Besides the traditional Crownlands that amounted to mostly just the lands bordering on the Blackwater Bay, plans were in the works to add nearly the entirety of the Riverlands to the direct rule of the Iron Throne. Possibly the Iron Islands too. They would certainly make for a magnificent bastion and base for the new Targaryen Western Fleet- after they had... _relocated_...the native Ironborn of course.

Unlike every other region of Westeros, the Riverlands had never been ruled by any single permanent house. When Aegon the Dragon took the Riverlands, they had been under the rule of House Hoare from the Iron Islands for quite some time. They had shifted under the rule of various kingdoms and petty states back and forth for millennia; even the Stormlands had ruled them for quite a while. It was the Targaryen's themselves that elevated House Tully of Riverrun to the position it currently held even though their had never been a Tully king. After the actions they now knew House Tully had perpetrated in the events that led up to the Rebellion, they felt well within their right's to demote the family they themselves raised up, and which had then gone on to betray them in such a vile manner and without any real cause save personal gain and blatant opportunism. The Riverlands would be joined together with the Crownlands. Even without their dragon's, they would then be a large power to be reckoned with, unlike in times past. Incidentally, they would also gain some very important ports on both coasts of Westeros in the form of Maidenpool, Saltpans, and Seaguard.

He thought over the best way to ensure the loyalty of the new lands under the Throne's control while their advisors thought out his suggestion of how to use the Unsullied without besmirching their own honor.

"What say you?" Rhaegar asked as he looked over those present.

Many looked conflicted, while some seemed more relaxed about the matter after the details had been explained to them properly.

"Well, I for one have no problems with that plan if it is truly feasible." Lord Velaryon stated unsurprisingly.

Personally, he thought Seven Hell's would freeze over before the day came that a Velaryon gainsaid a Targaryen in anything.

"Nor I." Harry Strickland added in his agreement; again unsurprisingly considering the amount of gold he was being paid.

Strickland would probably agree to helping them forcibly convert everyone to the Red God if he was paid enough.

"As long as they were truly free to do as they will, I suppose I see no problem with it. It is certainly a far better life and future than would have otherwise remained to them." Ser Arthur said.

There were many nods at Ser Arthur's words. His opinion always carried great weight as the legendary knight was as renown for his unshakable honor as his uncle Ned Stark was, perhaps even more so.

"I understand all of that, and I can even agree with such a plan because adding such forces to our own would be a large boon. What I'm unsure about is _how_ they could possibly be bought? The amount of gold needed for such a scheme would be astronomical." His Uncle Benjen questioned.

'Understandably so.' Haery thought.

The amount of gold needed to purchase all of them would be truly enormous if they _actually_ had any intention of paying for them. However...they had no such plans.

When he had discussed the initial plan Rhaenys, Dany, and himself had concocted with his parent's and grandmother, they had been silent for a long moment before breaking in to peals of laughter at just what would be in store for the so-called, 'Good Masters' of Astapor. Knowing something of just how they trained the Unsullied (and how they treated all their slave's in general), none of them felt an ounce of pity for what was to come for them.

Rhaegar locked eyes with his good-brother.

"Do not concern yourselves with the funds we'd need to procure the Unsullied, Brother. Just know that we have that under control. It will _not_ be an issue." Rhaegar said with a tone of finality and all those at the table knew not to question the dragon further on the matter.

"If there are no more objections, we shall arrange the time to travel to Astapor at a later date in the near future. The majority of the Royal Fleet would also need to make for Slaver's Bay, so that must needs be coordinated and timed correctly. Lord Velaryon, I shall inform you of the time with which you will need to recall the fleet together." Rhaegar decided.

"Yes, Your Grace." The Admiral agreed.

"Now, what is this we have been hearing in regards to the Dothraki?"

They were taking a calculated risk in involving themselves with such things, but the potential gains they all believed out-weighed the risks involved.

They had been receiving reports for a while now about some of the Khalasars growing far more bold of late, as well as travelling much further west than they have in recent memory. Pentos, Norvos, and Qohor were the cities in the most danger along with some of the towns and villages along the Rhoyne; as well as themselves of course.

Uncle Benjen was the first to speak up about that issue.

"The Eastern Wolves...or rather the Norvossi Stark's for those of you whom were unawares, report that not only have many of the settlements along the Rhoyne been falling under increasing attack, but that Norvos is being routinely threatened. We heard the same from the Qohoric which have been sacked multiple times in recent years. We know ourselves that they have begun encroaching upon Pentos itself and the Pentoshi Flatlands far more brazenly than in the recent past, but tribute can only last so long. Frankly, I despise them all. The Horselords remind me _far_ too much of the Ironborn scum for me to tolerate their existence. They are preying on those three Free-Cities because they lack the means to effectively resist them- unlike the Three Daughter's. The Volantene's would normally aid the Norvossi, but they are having issues with the Triarchy between the Tiger's and the Elephant's of their own. Something must needs be done about the threats they face as no one should have to live with the vile things the Dothraki inflict...rapists and thieves the lot of them!" Benjen informed them all strongly.

The disgust he held for the Dothraki was easily heard. Haery shared his Nuncle's opinion on the savages whole-heartedly. He despised rapists with every fiber of his being and was disgusted by just how common an occurrence such travesties were in the world he now lived in. It had been bad enough in his past world, but here it was so common as to be sickening.

He locked eyes with his father.

They had previously discussed a plan that had the potential to expand their domains like never before and grant them a kingdom in Essos. With the contacts they held within those Free-Cities as well as their favor with the Iron Bank, and their shadow alliance with the Tiger's of Volantis (which virtually no one was aware of), it may just be possible to forge a new realm in the East. Targaryen's of old had long-since dreamed of such a realm...to re-forge the Valyrian Empire...but since the aftermath of the Dance, those thoughts were little more than idle wishes and flights of fancy.

Now, with dragons at their command once again, times were decidedly different.

Of course it could, and undoubtedly would, also lead to their identities being discovered much sooner than they would like.

"If Pentos, Norvos, and Qohor were offered complete and total security from any and all external threats...if things such as being forced to pay massive amounts of gold in tribute to a passing khalasar were a thing of the past...that their people were never again stolen and sold further east into slavery and bondage...what do any of you think they would be willing to sacrifice to have such security?" Rhaegar asked the group at large with calculated nonchalance.

It did not take long for some of the council members to see exactly where such ideas were heading. It was a plan on a scale grander than any of them had ever contemplated in the past. If they could deliver on the promised security and protection...well, that left them with a great deal to consider.

Considering that House Targaryen was now in possession of a small armada of fire-breathing, no longer extinct _dragons_...that proposal had such potential that it just might actually work.

"You mean to offer the three city-states an alliance? To place them under the banner's of House Targaryen?" Prince Oberyn questioned curiously with a sharply raised brow of interest as intrigue shone from his hawk-like eye's.

"I believe it is something worth considering. We now have the means to contemplate something that none of my ancestors ever before attempted, though many desired to do so. I would offer the ruling body's of Pentos, Norvos, and Qohor the safety and protection of some of our dragon's and men. If the Council's would be willing to honorably swear fealty to the Targaryen Crown, we would bring them under our banner's. I would offer them terms similar to those which Dorne accepted when they were brought into the Empire. As long as they accepted that all forms of slavery were abolished (as we all know that though it is technically outlawed, it still exists in some form to various degrees even in the Northern Free-Cities), and they agreed to summon their banner's when called upon in alliance with their new sister-states, I would not be opposed to allowing them the same autonomy enjoyed by Dorne. They could keep their governing bodies exactly as is and intact. I would also ask that they accept religious toleration for all the various gods people worship and in return nothing of a religious nature would ever be forced upon them. The possible benefits for reduced tariffs in trade with both imports and exports between not only themselves, but Westeros as well would be large boons to all of their economies. I would hear your thought's on the matter." Rhaegar said; describing exactly what both he and Rhaenys had conjured up one day after learning of the horror the Dothraki were capable of inflicting...and which they commonly did commit.

Not to mention that what was possibly the largest Khalasar of them all was led by a Khal that felt he was somehow _entitled_ to his sweet Dany because of the former machinations of that traitor Illyrio. The Seven Hell's would freeze over before he allowed such a thing to come to pass! _That_ he swore.

All around the table those gathered were sporting looks of various degrees of shock, awe, and in some cases- barely concealed excitement at the King's proposition. To unite three of the most powerful city-states of Essos as one realm under the Targaryen Crown was a feat never before attempted. The possible benefits for trade were nearly incalculable. They had a rather poor history with the Three Daughter's of Old Valyria: Myr, Lys, and Tyrosh. Relations between the more Northern states had always been much better with House Targaryen than the southron Free Cities. It helped, he supposed, that those northern Free Cities under question were the Essosi states that bore the most similarities to the Seven Kingdoms themselves. Andalos itself was more under Pentoshi control than Braavosi, and would make the Faith happy to have their original homeland back under the same banners.

"If such a thing could be offered and accepted, we would be in a much stronger position when we turn our sight upon Westeros. I imagine such an arrangement could keep my company active indefinitely to provide security. With the aid of a dragon or two, I do not foresee that being such a bad proposition at all. I would be very interested in partaking in such a venture." Harry Strickland said.

"We also have some... _debts_...that could be called upon by the Qohoric nobility to help gain their support." Strickland added with a calculating look.

Haery nearly snorted out loud. The greed was plainly written upon the leader of the Golden Company's visage. He did not doubt the he and his officer's especially would be more than happy to gain favor from them with such an arrangement. That suited them just fine as they had no intention of allowing the Golden Company to step foot onto mainland Westeros. Their history of supporting the enemies of House Targaryen precluded that.

"I'm almost certain Norvos would be amenable to such an arrangement. Between the influence of the wife of Prince Doran's family, and our own branch of House Stark in Norvos, enough of their elite could be persuaded. They are all very much tired of the threat the Horselords continually pose to them and their hinterlands. I would imagine the same could be said for the Rhoynish settlements as long as Volantis did not oppose us." Uncle Benjen explained to them.

That, he found very interesting. He had long desired to meet the so-called 'Eastern Starks'. Now, they may yet get the chance. It was also highly convenient that the Lady Mellario's own lady mother was a member of the Eastern branch of House Stark; giving them another blood connection to the Martell's that virtually no one in Westeros was aware of.

Rhaegar nodded his head in concurrence.

"The Maegyr's of Volantis have long been our staunch allies, along with several of the other Old Blood families that like to associate themselves with the last of the Forty. They would help to ensure Volantene support as long as we did nothing to threaten their own slave's (not without more than adequate compensation anyway); or at the least non-interference. That popular Red Priest is also quite fond of House Targaryen for whatever reason, and he has great influence among the lesser ranks of Volantene society." Queen Rhaella said; addressing the council for the first time that afternoon.

"Yes, Mother is right about that. That would definitely help- especially with the Rhoynish towns." Rhaegar concurred.

The villages, towns, and cities along the Rhoyne were dependent upon cooperation with Volantis for trade as the Volantene's controlled their access to the sea. They could exist with only trading with Norvos, Qohor, and between themselves, but they'd never prosper with that alone. He did not doubt that Volantis itself would be rather interested in the possibility of a resurrected Freehold or Valyrian-based kingdom considering their own belief's and desire to be seen as the heir's of the Valyrian Freehold. As long as the Sealord of Braavos and the Iron Bank was kept happy there was not much Lys, Myr, or Tyrosh (even allied together) could do about any of it.

"So, we agree that the suggestion is something worth developing further; despite the inevitable risks of our enemies learning of our continued existence?" His father asked the table at large.

Haery was pleased to note that his and Rhaenys' brain child had been very well received all around as he observed all the enthusiastic nods of confirmation their father's question had garnered.

He looked towards his sister beside him and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. He was so proud of just how amazingly intelligent and inventive his Rhae was. Her answering smile was beautiful as she squeezed his hand back in return; just as pleased as he was of their plan's success.

He decided to speak up next.

"I believe it would be prudent for us to attempt to gain the Unsullied forces _before_ we enter into any negotiations with the city-states in question. Tentative talks may begin, but they'd need our presence for any treaty made. By waiting for the Unsullied forces to arrive, we would be able to enter negotiations from a position of much greater strength, in my opinion at least. Also, I am uncertain of exactly how long that expedition will take. At the earliest, it would take at least a full year to either ferry the fleet back and forth or possibly more if we have to march them all the way back to the Western Coast." He said; addressing his father in particular but also the council as a whole.

Rhaegar was silent momentarily before nodding his head in agreement.

"My son is correct in that regard. Illyrio can begin to feel out the Pentoshi, Benjen can contact the Norvossi, and Strickland the Qohoric. I would imagine the negotiations are likely to be rather ponderous in any case, so we shall have time handle the Unsullied first." Rhaegar informed them all.

"My son and I shall leave within the week. Lord Varys was correct in the fact that our time is beginning to run short. All of us must needs accomplish all we can whilst we retain our anonymity as we are unlikely to be allowed to enjoy it much longer." Rhaegar decreed.

That part of his father's plan was news to him. He had thought it likely to take at least several more moons before they'd be able to travel to Astapor. He supposed his father was right as usual though. They likely did not have all that long before events would become far more dangerous for them all, and were possibly not even within their control.

That was what all of them dreaded the most- the almost certain likelihood of events moving beyond their control.

The day the Usurper learned that not only was Rhaegar Targaryen still alive, but that he was happily married to an also still very much alive and well Lyanna Stark _of her own free will_...well, he doubted the Whoremonger King would take the news very well.

That would prove to be an understatement of epic proportions.

"I thank all of you for coming and providing me with your council."

Recognizing the sign of dismissal, the various lords and ladies at the table all stood and bowed to the King before following Queen Rhaella into the dining hall for a light meal.

"Do you really think we can do it, Father?" He asked once the others except their family had departed the room.

"I know we can. We can do anything we set our mind's to now that we have the means. Trying times might be ahead of us, but this was your idea, and you were born for greatness, My Son." His father told him with a proud smile.

No father could have ever been prouder than he was of his sweet Jaehaerys. That the boy was brilliant was beyond doubt.

The fact that at not even ten and three name days his son was almost single-handedly designing an entire new city in his favored, ' _Imperial Style_ ', whilst attending his own duties and continued education was merely one example amongst many.

He also cared about other people more than himself, and that was something that was near to unheard of in a prince- especially in a Targaryen Prince. Despite his youthful fancies, never did Rhaegar expect that he would ever be as proud of, or feel as privileged, that he would ever have a son and heir he helped raise that would be as truly extraordinary as the young man standing before him. Rhaegar felt that the god's had blessed him more than he had ever had any right to expect or deserve.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter VIII.**

 **Author's Note-** _Thanks to those who reviewed. The real action begins in this chapter, and it's going to begin a relatively fast ride from here on out with many things happening and their cause/effect will begin to have our exiles much more on the move and involved. We'll also begin to start seeing events occurring in Westeros itself soon and how events are shaping up there. The first main part of this chapter is Haery's observations in dragon form when he is 'traded' for the Unsullied. We all know how that went in the book/show when Dany 'bought' them, so that part is not going to be overly detailed or dialogue heavy because I hate basically re-writing canon which is essentially what that part is. Our younger generation is beginning to reach close enough to adulthood that events will begin to be interesting for them with Rhaenys and Dany coming into their own and knowing what they want in life. Thanks for reading!_

 **Disclaimer:** I Own Nothing.

 _Astapor, Slaver's Bay_

 _Three Moons Later_

They had made it. They had finally made it to the port of Astapor. Jaehaerys and his father had departed from their new seat at Kingsport nearly three moons ago. The ship they travelled aboard was a large dromond that had been especially designed to maximize speed. All things considered, they had made remarkably good time. He and his father were also able to spend a great deal of time bonding with one another that had meant alot to them both.

Having never had a father in what he remembered of his now-hazy past life, or even a father-figure really, he had always felt especially blessed that in this life he had such an amazing family. To Haery, his father was everything a great man was supposed to be. He had his fault's certainly. He was not so naïve as to believe that anyone was perfect, but he often thought that his father was as close to perfect as one could get. No matter how busy he was, nor what he was doing, Rhaegar always made time for his children. As his father's heir, he took an especial interest in his own training and upbringing.

No matter that they had some of the finest and most legendary swordsmen in all the world that lived in close proximity serving their family, it had been his father that he had wished to teach him the martial arts. He had done so gladly even beginning at the very young age of only four name days. After learning of his magic, and the fact that very soon, they could hatch some of the eggs in their possession, that training had been intensified to an infinite degree. In no way did his father go easy on him during his exhaustive training, and his Kingsguard instructor's even less so. Often times, he would be covered in cuts and bruises from head to toe, but at least in this life, he earned those bruises due to the sheer dedication of all those around him who were all determined that he survive and thrive in the likely trying times that were ahead for his family. In this life, he had family that loved him, supported him, and always wished for him to be able to come out on top. Rhaegar had known then that they would most assuredly be fighting for their throne sometime in the relatively near future, and he would not allow for his son to be in any way unprepared.

His academics had also been a common ground of bonding between the father and son. Though he had been in no way an academic in his previous life, in this one however, he all but craved knowledge in all its forms. He was ever eager to explore this utterly fascinating new world he lived in. Because of his maturity being so very advanced for his supposed age (even if he did down play his abilities as often as possible), it was not seen as out of the ordinary for him to have a thick tome in hand as he poured over any bit of knowledge that struck his fancy. His father had apparently been quite similar as a young boy (to the point that Queen Rhaella jokingly swore he was born with a book already in hand the moment he came out of the womb), and had been delighted that his eldest son took after him in a such a like manner. Growing up, no matter how busy his father may have been, he would always make time to spend with him where they would discuss many a varied topic of interest to their heart's content. Rhaegar was always happy to encourage his pursuit of knowledge and never failed to show encouragement- a trait he happily shared with his sister Rhaenys especially.

When they had passed by as close as they dared to the ruins of Old Valyria and the Smoking Sea, both he and his father had desperately desired to explore the area. Of course their superstitious crew would not allow their ship to get anywhere near the remnants of the Valyrian Peninsula. He had itched to take to his dragon form and investigate the area thoroughly, but something held him back. He did not know if it was his instincts or possibly his magic, but he could tell it was serious. As his instincts hardly ever steered him in the wrong direction, he kept to the ship and just observed the ruins as close as they could with their Myrish glass eye brought for that very purpose.

One day, he swore he would return and explore all of the remnants of the most advanced civilization this world had ever seen that was the cradle of his own blood.

The long voyage had also given his father and him ample time to go over their plan's down to the last detail.

They had eventually agreed that his father would be presenting Balaeria and Haery himself in his dragon form.

His own dragon form was still considerably larger than all the others, for reasons none of them were aware of- his own young age notwithstanding. The 'Good Masters' could pick from one of the two supposedly in exchange for all of their Unsullied forces. If, as they expected, they wanted the larger of the two (Haery himself), they would have to include all of the Unsullied that were still in training as well as those for sale. Once the transaction was completed, and he had been handed over to the Good Masters, all the Seven Hell's would break loose.

Afterwards, and hopefully to gain more loyal and hard-working subjects, they would first travel around Yunkai to Mereen itself, and demand they set their slave's free that wished to be freed. If not, the city would be sacked and burned. Then, they would finish with Yunkai before rendezvousing with the Royal Fleet to escort the Unsullied and the freed slaves that wished to go with them to Dragon's Rest and Kingsport.

That was the plan at least. It was also their first major step back into the world of international politics and intrigue in a long time. Afterwards, they well knew there was little possibility of keeping their identities secret. Of course, considering his belief that the gods like to mock the plans of lesser mortals and the fact that such plans rarely survive first contact with the enemy, they prepared themselves for any eventuality.

Tonight, they would be spending one last night aboard their ship before they met with the Good Masters first thing in the morning. After tomorrow, everything was likely to change. Their quiet domestic existence was not likely to survive the year after news of their action's in Slaver's Bay made it out to the wider world. All eyes would soon be upon their every move. Never again would they have the opportunity to casually walk through the streets of a city without large amounts of guards or hordes of small-folk clamoring to see them. He supposed being Harry Potter in the past had at least given him a decent preparation for his current life, but he doubted he would ever truly enjoy such public spectacles. As he fell asleep that night; being lulled into the land of dreams by the gentle rocking of the waves against the ship, he prayed to any deities that would listen that their plans went off without _too_ many problems. He did not wish for innocent blood to be spilled just to gain them a larger army. He would do everything in his power to minimalize the casualties and preserve innocent lives as much as he possibly could. That, he supposed, was the best he could hope for.

* * *

The next day dawned bright and clear with nary a cloud in the sky. The weather was warm beyond anything father or son had ever dealt with. They left the ship with a group comprising of his father, Ser Barristan Selmy, Ser Oswell Whent (the rest of the Kingsguard remained behind to guard the remaining members of the Royal Family), Lucerys Velaryon, several of the Admiral's officers, and last but by no means least, teams of oxen pulling two massive cages with huge pieces of cloth covering the cages from view.

As he was in his dragon form (an hence inside one of the cages), there was only a tiny gap of an opening from which he could view his surroundings.

From what he could see of Astapor, he found the city less than impressive. Slaves outnumbered the freemen and women by a massive margin, and the overwhelming majority of them seemed to live in desperately poor conditions. He had of course known all this beforehand. He had even seen slavery as it existed in some of the other Free-Cities, but the level of what he could only describe as a human tragedy to be found in Slaver's Bay was utterly appalling in the extreme. It hardened his resolve on a level nothing else would have been capable of, and he suspected his father was experiencing the exact same sentiments as his heir. Their dragon blood boiled with indignation at the injustice laid bare before them.

Any thoughts that may have previously existed within his mind that there would have to be some slaves that had been well enough treated and cared for by their master's (if for no other reason than to prevent constant revolt and escape attempts) stopped in their tracks. He had previously thought that perhaps he should strive to ensure no harm or even too major a financial loss befell these people. Whatever thoughts he had previously entertained, or at least hoped for, fled his mind like so much smoke in the wind as his eye's strained to take in the mass of human depravity before him. These beasts deserved no mercy from him- and they would receive none.

It was with a bleeding heart of such thoughts pervading his mind that he noticed the contraption he was held within come to a stop. They had arrived at their destination.

He focused his animagus form's keen hearing and sharpened sight through the small opening allotted to him as his senses strained to see and hear the business his father was now seeing to. He did notice immediately that there were likely at least several hundred Unsullied soldiers standing at attention in parade rest and he supposed awaiting inspection from his father. He also noted that the Good Masters whom owned and trained the Unsullied were seated not too far away in a row of seats together in a place he had heard called 'the Plaza of Pride'.

One particularly sleazy looking worm of a man, who obviously held himself in high regard, was approaching his father along with a young girl he suspected was to act as a translator (they had already decided to pretend they all could only speak in the Common Tongue of Westeros as that was all that would be expected of them and they could therefore hear and understand many things they likely would never say if they knew they could speak and understand Valyrian).

He settled in to watch the proceedings with narrowed eyes.

The oily-looking man was introduced by the young girl acting as translator as Kraznys mo Nakloz. In the far recesses of his mind, Haery was vaguely reminded of a particularly disgusting used car salesman (despite the fact that for some reason unknown to him he could barely recall anything to do with the so-called 'Muggle' World).

From the very start, the dragon within him was raging at the continuous amount of insults the scum was heaping upon his father in the belief that he could not understand anything he said. Words like, 'Sister-Fucker', 'Inbred Son of a Whore', and 'Bastard Westerosi Whoremonger' flew from the vile man's lips.

Oh, how his inner dragon dearly wished to burn the filth to ashes.

Rhaegar began by asking the man questions about the Unsullied and their training.

The answers were even more appalling than they could have possibly imagined.

What they had previously known of the Unsullied training paled in comparison to the depravity of the reality they were forced to endure.

They were told that an Unsullied graduated by killing a baby in front of its slave mother which was paid to the child's owner, and few failed the test.

Rage, unlike anything he had ever before experienced, burned through his veins. It was all he could do to keep control of himself and Balaeria both. His control nearly slipped on multiple occasions in the following tale of such abominable suffering.

He would never understand how one human being could actually do that to another of their own kind. The masters truly saw the slaves as another type of being entirely.

He could easily tell that his father was completely horrified and was barely holding on to his own formidable temper. The next statement somehow almost seemed even worse. He'd not thought such a thing possible.

The slaver revealed to them that... _dogs_...of all things, were truthfully harder for the Unsullied to kill than _babies_ were.

The reason for that was disgusting on a whole other level of sadism.

Each boy was given a puppy when they were cut, that they were instructed to care for and raise. Then...and then they were forced to _strangle_ the puppy at the end of the first year of training.

Any that failed the so-called ' _test_ ' were immediately killed and then fed to the starving dogs- sometimes whilst even still alive.

He was thankful that he was in his dragon form for otherwise he was certain he would have been unable to repress the bile that rose up in his throat.

He truly wished to destroy these disgusting abominations that were masquerading themselves as human beings.

The horrors merely continued as they learned more and more about the Unsullied training process.

When Rhaegar asked whether they can be tempted by freedom or not...the slave translator told him they cannot be tempted by such things because they have, ' _no life outside their duty_ '.

Rhaegar then got down to the purpose of their visit. He asked Kraznys how many Unsullied they have for sale at present.

Kraznys had the translator tell him that they presently have nine thousand Unsullied for sale, and that they are not cheap because their training took years to complete to satisfactory results to be deemed 'Unsullied'.

Rhaegar told him he did not expect them to be.

Kraznys told his father that the Unsullied were ' _akin to Valyrian Steel, they were hammered and folded over and over again until they had reached the pinnacle of marshal perfection_ '. He also informed him that as they are only trained to fight, he would have to provide officers for them himself. He further explained that each Unsullied came with their own sword, shield, spear, sandals, quilted tunic, and spiked cap. Those simple pieces were what constituted their uniform.

His father apparently noticed quite a large number of younger soldiers in the back. Some of them were even still holding on to their puppies. He heard him ask how many they had available that were still undergoing their training.

The translator informed his they had somewhere over three thousand that were currently in the various stages of training.

His father merely nodded at that, but he could see a gleam of something in his father's eyes and knew then what he was up to.

Finally, it was time to talk numbers, which was good as he was unable to say how much longer he could have endured listening to that vile man constantly rattle off insults to his father unchallenged.

Kraznys asked Rhaegar how many he wished to purchase.

He was fairly certain the odious little man was more than a bit surprised by his answer when his father told him he wished to buy every last one of the Unsullied available.

The man seemed highly skeptical and dumbfounded momentarily before he snidely asked him how he expected to pay for _nine thousand Unsullied_. (His actual words being- _'How did the sister-fucking lunatic expect to pay for them? Did he think his pretty inbred face and shining silver locks enough that they would want his sword-swallowing ass_ that _much?)_

He was forced to dampen his own extreme anger at the scum as he knew his own part in this mummers farce was quickly approaching.

He readied himself.

Ignoring Kraznys for the most part, Rhaegar approached the Good Master's that were observing the transaction. The translator girl was following closely beside him. He said a single word that the slavers apparently understood even if it was spoken in the Westerosi tongue- ' _Dragons'_.

Rhaegar asked the young girl to tell the Good Master's that he had two dragons in his possession, but that he would only part with smaller of the two.

He then noticed his father make a subtle motion with his hand towards the ox carts. Almost immediately, the canvas covering the massive cages was removed and all eyes in the arena turned to look upon the two very large dragons calmly resting in their cages.

The eyes of the Good Master's had widened to near-comical proportions.

He saw his father flash a quick smirk at him and the Good Master's had to blink as some of them could have sworn they had just seen the very large red dragon give them something akin to a reptilian grin.

It was terrifying.

Then, clear as day, he saw the lust and greed overtake the Good Master's. They knew well what the powers of a dragon at their command could bring to them. Their own ancestor's once-mighty Ghiscari Empire had been completely obliterated and wiped off the map due to the dragons of Old Valyria. Heated discussions in Bastard Valyrian began all around as Rhaegar's stated terms were discussed heatedly.

That they would agree was a foregone conclusion.

At the moment, the generous Good Master's were attempting to figure out how to obtain both dragons, and if not both, than certainly the larger of the two- him. So far, things were going exactly as they had expected. It was several minutes later that the Good Masters whispered to the young translator and she stood before his father with their counter offer.

At first (just as they expected as well), the Good Masters claimed they wanted _both_ dragons.

Rhaegar then ironically asked them how _they_ expected to pay for two of them, let alone try and purchase the largest of them that was not even for sale.

This led to further discussion and debate amongst the Good Masters. He could not hear much, even with his advanced hearing, but what he heard was enough to know they would have them right where they wanted them soon enough.

Finally, they had the slave girl ask his father what it would take in order for him to sell them the largest of the two dragons; besides the nine thousand Unsullied of course.

He watched on in amusement as his father adopted a look of deep pensive concentration as his eye's roamed all over the plaza and landed on the Unsullied in training in the back that were visible. Rhaegar then turned back around with a determined set to his jaw.

He had to give his father props.

'He would have had a fine career as a mummer. Could be something to fall back on if the whole 'King' thing didn't work out.' He thought amused.

His father told the translator that this was absolutely his final offer. He said he would be willing to trade the larger red dragon in exchange for not only the nine thousand Unsullied already available, but would only do so if he received _all_ of those still in training; _all three thousand of them_!

He told them it was that...or nothing at all.

He knew they had them then despite the next amount of flurried debate and discussion the Good Master's were currently involved in.

The translator girl (who could not possibly have been any older than Dany if she was even that old) stepped away from the debating Good Master's and told his father that they would urge him to consider something else of comparable value besides those boys still in training. She said that if they fell in the field because of their incomplete training they would shame all of Astapor; something that had never before been done.

Rhaegar could tell that, _bizarrely enough_ (as it was not the value of the still-in-training Unsullied that they had a problem with), the so-called Good Master's actually _did_ value their reputation's to such a degree that they were truly hesitant. He supposed his father's next statement was meant to put them further at their ease.

Rhaegar told them that with only the one smaller dragon left, he would most assuredly need them all...including those still in training. He told them he had many battles that needed to be fought, and that the Unsullied could continue to keep up with the training of their incomplete brethren while they marched. They need only to select which out of the nine thousand Unsullied would be the best to continue their training.

They had them now.

With that statement from his father, the last of the Good Master's remaining hesitation fell away.

They accepted the 'deal'.

Now.

Now he knew the time was nearly upon him.

He had never done anything like what he was about to do, but he had also never so desperately desired what he wished since meeting these disgusting people and learning of the enormity of the horror and terror they committed on a daily basis. It was time for them to reap what they had sown.

Their end had arrived, and they would very shortly be learning the _exact_ meaning of 'Fire and Blood'.

The eldest of the Good Master's had walked over to join his father and the young translator; Kraznys standing to the side of them. He listened intently as the Good Master agreed to sell them all nine thousand of the Unsullied as well as all three thousand of those currently undergoing their training to become Unsullied in exchange for the red dragon (his father smirked a tiny bit as told them the dragon's name was, 'Jaehaerys').

After that was agreed upon between them, his father asked the question of whether or not it was done; if the transaction had been completed. Then, each of the Good Master's had individually agreed: ' _done_ '.

The young translator then faced the ranks of the Unsullied, all of the nine thousand that would fit had gathered together; packed tightly within the plaza. The girl then stated nine separate times...' _done_ '.

One of the Good Master's told his father that the Unsullied will learn his language quickly, but that he would need a translator in the meantime, therefore he was given the slave translator (whose name was revealed to be Missandei), to serve as their translator as a token of their 'good faith' and a 'bargain well struck'.

Kraznys had then gone on to tell Rhaegar that the Unsullied he just bought were green and that he should- _'blood them early'_. (He would soon be dearly regretting that particular suggestion.)

He went on to tell him that there were many small cities along his route that were ripe for plunder, and the plunder will be his, and his alone. He said the Unsullied have no lust for gold- or anything else for that matter (perhaps with the exception of food as their only available vice). Also that he could send the captives back to Astapor for good prices.

His moment was approaching he knew when his father motioned for Ser Barristan and Ser Oswell to open his cage. (He had to admit that both his human self as well as his inner dragon loathed the chain that had been attached to his lethally-sharp, clawed feet.) His father then approached him, and he nearly growled at the smirk he shot the chain; knowing full well of his heir's loathing of the metal tethering him.

Slowly, he made his way out of the cage. His large form was cumbersome in such a confined area. He would admit to enjoying the looks of fear some of the Good Master's had the sense to send his way when he growled at them.

His father mounted his horse as he held the chain he was attached to, and he took flight lowly above them. Even with a chain attached to him, he always felt free in the air. After all, what was a bit of metal to a dragon's fire?

His father then handed over the end of his chain to Kraznys, and Kraznys handed his father a curious whip with nine ends- he thought it was called the, ' _Harpy's Fingers_ '.

When Kraznys announced that it was done, his father raised the whip high above his head and galloped over till he was mounted in front of the Unsullied ranks; announcing that it was done.

He however, would not move from the spot where his father had handed the chain over no matter how much Kraznys jerked on the blasted thing.

Rhaegar returned nearer to Kraznys and asked if he is having any trouble with a dangerous smirk on his lip's.

Kraznys irately agreed that he was indeed having a great deal of trouble with the apparently stubborn dragon.

Rhaegar looked down at the filth and told it that there was a reason for that: ''Dragons are _not_ slaves.''

His father immediately afterwards looked him in the eye and firmly nodded his head; both of their mind, heart, and moral's filled with firm conviction in that moment. He knew beyond any and all doubt that what he was about to do was irrefutably the right thing.

Taking in a large breath of air while his chain was being roughly jerked about all the while the scum was cursing him in Bastard Valyrian, he released a terrifyingly long and molten hot jet of dragonfire upon the Good Master Kraznys.

While that was not the first time in his life he had taken a life, it was the first time he had actually enjoyed it. That was a thought that almost scared him until he looked out over Kraznys' burning remains and down to the many thousands of Unsullied and thought of all the murdered babes and pups and the god's knew what else had been done to them.

After that, he felt much better about the deed. He turned his attention back to the matter at hand.

Ser's Barristan and Oswell had already released Balaeria, who was quick to join him in the air.

When the slavers call for the Unsullied to defend their masters, they appeared shocked out of their wit's when they... _did_... _not_... _move_.

His father stood tall and proud on his stallion as he commanded the Unsullied to slay the Good Master's, slay the soldiers, and slay every man that wore a tokar or any that held a whip. He ordered them to strike the chains off of every single slave they could find.

His regal and dangerously handsome father then let out a battle-cry as he yelled out to all the Unsullied one single word: " _Freedom_!" In High Valyrian.

What followed could only be described as a well-deserved massacre.

He had flown around with Balaeria taking out all of the enemy archers, and together they had both laid down a fair amount of dragonfire upon the largest group of what he believed to be the Good Master's sell-swords. In truth, their action's were barely even needed except perhaps for removing the archers. The Unsullied demonstrated their ruthless efficiency as well as their strict discipline when they had cut down all opposition anywhere near them without a single loss of Unsullied life.

They had continued on throughout the town freeing every slave in sight.

By this point, he had returned to human form; shocking the hell out of several of the Unsullied who had seen him transform.

He came upon his father who was with Ser Barristan and Ser Oswell standing guard.

As soon as his father saw him, he immediately pulled him into a fierce embrace.

"Are you alright, Jaehaerys?" His father asked.

He felt still like a small boy enjoying his father's protection and embrace for a moment.

"Yes, Papa. I'm fine. After meeting those scum, I could not find within myself an ounce of pity for the beasts." He admitted.

His father looked him over closely to ascertain if he spoke truly or not before he let out a sigh.

"I'm sorry you had to be a part of such a thing, but what those men were doing...I've never felt rage flow through me quite like that before in all my life." Rhaegar admitted to him.

"In that, I can completely understand."

He agreed wholeheartedly with his father.

"What Your Grace's accomplished on this day was well met and honorable. I admit, I was skeptical of this whole venture at first. However, after seeing the things we saw and heard here today, I could not agree more." Ser Barristan told him King and Prince.

"Thank you, Ser Barristan." Haery replied with a smile.

He was glad to have gained the approval of a legend such as Ser Barristan.

"Now, what is our next task, Father?" He asked.

He was curious if they were going to continue on with their plan.

"I have never been more certain of anything in my life. We are going to do exactly as we planned. This entire region is anathema to everything we stand for. I _despise_ Slaver's Bay utterly. However, we will not lay it to waste needlessly. Even though I may have doubts that there are _any_ decent masters in Mereen or Yunkai either, I do not believe it would be right to burn _all_ of them."

"That said, we shall head straight to Mereen first before they have the time to recruit any amount of decent force against us. I believe we'll only be facing the, 'Sons of the Harpy' and possibly the Second Sons or the Storm Crows there. Those we can handle easily enough. We shall free all their slave's within, and use the fleet to send those that wish to travel to the west and remain under our protection back with the fleet and a detachment of the Unsullied. When the fleet returns, we shall have already freed the slaves of Yunkai that wish it as well. We'll use Balaeria and your own form to keep checks upon Yunkai and Astapor whilst in Mereen to make certain no other enemy force come near. After the fleet returns from sending the soon-to-be former slave's of Mereen home, we'll collect every ship possible, and send the slave's of Astapor and Yunkai that still remain as well as the Unsullied and ourselves with the last journey west." Rhaegar explained to all of them.

By that point, a few of the Unsullied that the former Good Master's had earlier pointed out to them would be able to make passable officers and trainers had been summoned to hear their plans too.

It did not take him long to figure out that the young translator, Missandei, was one of the selected Unsullied's younger sister. He was happy to see them able to once again acknowledge themselves as brother and sister.

Before developing any further plans, he and his father faced the Unsullied and the recently freed slaves that had gathered and Rhaegar addressed them in Valyrian.

 _"I thank you all for your help in ending the atrocities that were being committed in this land. We are not done by a long shot. It is our intention to travel to both Mereen and Yunkai and free every slave there whom are still held in chains. It will not be easy, but my family is determined that every man, woman, and child remaining in bondage in Slaver's Bay that wish to have freedom, shall be given the opportunity to not only be free, but have the chance to begin a new life in the West. Every man, woman, and child present are free to leave and do as they please. None will stop you, nor will any harm you whilst we remain. Any whom wish to begin a new life, I will help them travel by ship for the new city we are building on the coast of the Narrow Sea. You will be given aid to build a home, and to find honest work to support yourselves and your families! Any who wish to depart for other realms, or any who wish to remain here, shall also be free to do so. Any who remain here or travel on their own shall be given weapons to protect yourselves from ever being returned to bondage against your will. That is what I offer each and every one of you."_ Rhaegar promised them.

His father meant every word spoken.

He addressed the Unsullied next.

 _"Unsullied! You have all done remarkably well, and I am proud to fight beside you all! You too are free to do as you will."_ Rhaegar told them.

He then took the whip he had been given symbolizing his ownership of them, and tossed it into a smoldering fire that remained from one of the dragon's breath.

 _"There. It is done! You have no master any longer! None but yourself. Each one of you are now your own masters! You are the master of your own destiny! You are now free to do as you will, and go where you please. If you would like to leave, then do so. If you would like to stay, you may do that as well. If you would like a new purpose, I would be honored to have any of you remain with my family. There will be war ahead, as my son and I fight to retake our home's and our throne. You are in no way obligated to join us, but we would be happy to have you as our brother's-and comrade's-in-arms. The choice is yours."_ His father said; ending his address to the twelve thousand Unsullied forces.

He watched as the Unsullied cautiously looked around one another. It was almost as if they were silently communicating with each another.

The seven chosen Unsullied officers snapped to attention and banged their spear's abruptly upon the ground. Within seconds, every single one of the Unsullied had smacked their closed fists against their plated chest's, and banged their spear's in unison.

Almost as one, the Unsullied began a cry, " _Freedom! Freedom! Freedom!...Dragons! Dragons! Dragons!...Long live the Dragons."_

He and his father both smiled at the apparently now-devoted new army they had just gained.

Father and son looked at one another and grinned before looking back out over the sea of faces.

" _Freedom!...Freedom!...Freeeeedooom!_ " They answered back to the Unsullied; shouting the words together loudly in High Valyrian.

(Yes, I went all Braveheart on ya...it just seemed perfect:)

* * *

Minutes later they were again planning exactly how they to infiltrate Mereen. The newly-deemed 'captains' of the Unsullied and the translator (who had also decided to stay with them) joined them in council.

They had already given the Unsullied instructions to enter the main residential sections of Astapor and remove anything of value. As wealthy as those slavers were, they imagined they'd be receiving quite the haul. All the loot taken from the three slaver cities would be used to help the former slaves build new lives with them in the west.

None had felt an ounce of guilt for 'liberating' such valuables either after all they had seen.

Ser Oswell asked the most pertinent question first.

"How are we to infiltrate the city and open the gates?"

That was a fine question indeed.

It had devolved to different ideas all involving various means of infiltrating the famed city before he felt his eye's wander. When they landed on the iron cage that had served as his dragon form's mode of transport, the idea that entered his mind in that moment was either the height of insanity, or brilliant.

They'd soon discover which.

"Father?" He asked questioningly as he spoke up and for the first time entered the debate himself.

"Yes, Son? What's on your mind?"

He well knew exactly how ingenius his son could be, and that despite his age, it was always wise to consider any opinion he offered seriously.

"The dragon cages...Could they not also carry men? Perhaps detachments of the Unsullied? I know neither my form nor Balaeria could carry too many for long, but they certainly could carry a good number of them the short distance needed to breach the city walls. Upon landing, all they need do is to protect their comrades momentarily whilst a couple of their fellows made to open the gates. If we were waiting without...especially at night...it would not take long to secure them. Once that was completed, it would be all but over." He said slowly; explaining the crazy thought that had just entered his head.

It was completely crazy, and to any of their knowledge, it had never before been attempted. However...it just might be the type of crazy that could alternately be called brilliant.

Rhaegar stared at his son slightly open-mouthed for a moment...before slowly, a grin began to materialize on his face as his mind flew through the possibilities of his son's totally unorthodox suggestion.

It was genius in Rhaegar's humble opinion. His boy was a bloody genius!

He wore a full-blown smile when next he spoke.

"Brilliant, Jaehaerys! Absolutely bloody brilliant! You completely solved any need for a prolonged siege, and that idea of yours will undoubtedly save many lives. I am definitely impressed. My god's...the possibilities that could bring in Westeros...so much of the death toll a siege takes could be drastically reduced if used as a surprise thusly." His father told him proudly.

He could not quite prevent the blush from staining his cheek's at his father's praise.

If there were any one trait that assuredly carried over from his life as Harry Potter, it was that he would never be completely comfortable receiving compliments and praise...or being in the spotlight- something he knew he had gotten much better at, but some of his old self-consciousness still lingered.

He smiled disarmingly.

"I just hope not to waste any of our people's lives needlessly. While I believe the freeing of those in bondage is worth the effort, the slavers themselves are not." He replied.

They went on to explain the proposition to the Unsullied captains, who then asked for a test of the idea. He transformed into his dragon form and all seven of the captains entered the cage that now had chains on the opposite ends anchored to his form's feet. Lifting off the ground was not easy, and it took him several attempts to get it right, but in the end...he did it.

He was able to fly them up to quite a decent height (at least as high as Mereen's city walls could possibly be) for several minutes before the weight became too much and he had to try and touch back down to the ground as gently as possible.

Still, they had done it. The plan was viable, and now they only needed practice to gain as much experience as was possible.

"That was a truly brilliant idea, Jaehaerys. I would never have been able to do any of this without you, My Boy." His father told him as he slung an arm around his heir's shoulder.

And in truth, Rhaegar would never be able to properly express just how impressed and proud of his eldest son he was. Of course he was proud of, and loved all his children, but his eldest boy would always be a shining star in his eye's. His boy was marked for greatness, there was no doubt about that whatsoever in Rhaegar's mind. He was even prouder to name his son as one of his dearest friends and that their relationship was as close as it was. After his experience with his own father, he counted himself blessed indeed.

Another thought occurred to him then.

"Do you think the fleet will be large enough to transport all the freed slaves that wish to go with us? I mean, just going by the numbers of those that wished to come from Astapor alone, and it's the smallest of the three Ghiscari cities..." He trailed off as he tried to compute the large numbers of both men and ships needed involved.

His father nodded his head.

"Yes, I've already considered that. If the intelligence we received on Yunkai and Mereen was accurate, and I think it was as the numbers on Astapor we were told were correct, than I believe the fleet by itself will not be enough. However, if we secure the harbors of both Yunkai and Mereen for ourselves..." His father trailed off, and he now understood the plan more.

"Then the combined ships and cogs captured should be enough." He finished.

"Yes, that's the hope at least. I believe that two full trips should be all that we'll need to transport all that wish to journey with us. Now, the problem will be making certain we can arrange housing and food. The new city is already growing by leaps and bounds, but this will be unheard of growth. We'll have to be very careful, but I think the amount of gold and bounty we'll be leaving with from the three slaver cities will be enough to get them all started on the beginnings of a good life in the west. I'd imagine they'll certainly be a loyal bunch for the Targaryen Capital of our Essosi holding's. We've already contracted a large number of engineers from Volantis. If the talks with Pentos, Norvos, and Qohor are successful, than we'll have no problem settling them all." His father said; chuckling at the end.

"I still cannot believe how brilliant you and Rhaenys can be when you put your mind's to something. No Targaryen was ever successful in what we're attempting, and that was with the full might of the Seven Kingdom's at their beck and call. Yet, the two of you came up with a plan for an Eastern Realm under our banner's that is actually viable and has a strong chance of becoming reality." Rhaegar said as he remembered his shock when his eldest two came to him with such an idea.

"Dragons make almost anything become possible." He replied with a smile.

His father's smile was as bright as his own as their family's hopes and future was truly beginning to look brighter than it had in centuries.

"Aye, that they do. That they most assuredly do." Rhaegar agreed.

Though he was also thinking of the young _human_ dragons that made up his family and how much they had accomplished and he had no doubt would continue to.

'Yes, our dragon's will be able to accomplish anything they set their sight's on, he would wager. They would accomplish all that _and more_.' Rhaegar thought as he smiled as his son had Balaeria almost purring like a cat while rubbing the top of her large horned head.

* * *

It was less than two weeks later that saw the small group that had arrived with Targaryen's and their new Unsullied army quietly approaching the gates of the City of Mereen. Night had long since fallen, and a relatively small number of only about one thousand men were amassing beneath the formidable walls in total silence and darkness.

Haery had practiced the maneuver with Balaeria many times in the past days and believed he'd gotten it down to as perfect as he was able. Now they'd be facing their first real test. This was also to be his first test of combat.

His father would be riding Balaeria and directing her to the south gate while he would be flying to get the gate nearest the harbor open. Ser Oswell was leading the crew chosen to open the first gate and Ser Barristan would be leading the men he was flying.

Luckily, it was a cloudy night and the visibility was minimal. That was fortuitous as they were not certain whether word of their escapades in Astapor had reached Mereen or not. Seeing as the Storm Crow's were indeed said to be within the city, it was entirely plausible. The city gates would be the first place the mercenaries would be keeping a close eye on. Hence, the reason for absolute silence until the alarm was given from the enemy.

In the distance, he spotted the first wave comprised of the thousand men finally reach their position's next to the walls. Now was the time.

He was already in his dragon form and the cage was chained to his feet. He stared at the ten men...well, nine men and one boy...within the cage and nodded his large scaled head in a sharp manner.

Aegon had pleaded with him to get his father to allow him to be amongst the small groups charged with securing the gates. He'd not really wanted his best male friend to be at such risk, but his begging had been relentless. He knew the other boy was always striving to make a name for himself...to prove that he really was worthy of Rhaegar having named him a Targaryen Prince. The boy pulled out all the stops- begging, pleading, puppy-dog eyes, and everything up to and including black-mail was attempted before he finally relented and agreed...but only because he knew he'd be right there in his dragon form in case anything too dangerous happened.

That was one of his greatest fears and the thing he knew he'd have a hard time dealing with and accepting.

He'd never lost anyone close to him in this life, and sometimes he thought the fact that he now knew real familial love in this world, would make it all the worse when the inevitable day arrived and he did lose someone he cared about.

It was one of the main reasons he always supported the far more cautious approach to re-taking their home than simply having the entire family mount their dragons and lay waste to their enemies and have done with it. His thought's of the first attempted Dornish conquest and the end it brought for Rhaenys and Meraxes as well as the memory of the Dance and it's aftermath for his family laid bare the possible outcomes of such dangerous and lethal folly.

His mother had always ensured none of them were allowed to think themselves invincible just because they rode dragons, and that while it was an admittedly difficult feat to accomplish, killing both a dragon and it's rider was entirely possible as history had repeatedly shown them. It was inevitable that they'd lose at least some of them if such a thing were ever attempted, and neither he nor his mother believed an iron chair worth the risk.

He brought his mind back to the task at hand as he lifted off the ground with a powerful beat of his massive leathery wings and a forceful push of his clawed feet; slowly ascending into the air till he reached the optimal height.

As he flew towards the approaching city walls of Mereen, the only sound heard was the swooshing of Haery's powerful wings displacing the surrounding air in a sound unheard in the region for many centuries now.

The weight of the iron cage carrying the ten men within it's metal confines was great, and it took all of Haery's formidable strength in his draconic form to raise himself up to the necessary height. With the advanced sight of his animagus form, he could see several of the guards stationed upon the city walls straining their vision to determine the origin of the distinctly alien sound- to no avail.

Finally, Haery reached the appropriate height above the walls.

He strained himself to maintain the cage's weight as his eye's zeroed in on the area surrounding the interior of the inner gate. Two guards were pacing back and forth across the length of the harbor-side gate. He also spied another four guards on each side manning the upper level of the interior city walls where two small, shack-like structures had been built into the upper level. It was that upper level that their own men must needs reach to effectively open the gate fully and admit their silent Unsullied awaiting them outside.

That was when he heard it.

Balaeria had let loose a ferocious roar startling all the surrounding guards and signaling him that it was time to begin.

Whilst the guards of Mereen were still distracted by Balaeria's battle cry, he guided the metal cage containing their men down to the ground as swiftly as he was able. The added weight was nearly unbearable, and for a moment, he thought he might not be able to land the cage without harming those within. Unable to take the strain any longer, the cage essentially fell the last few feet; jarring their men inside, but still leaving them apparently unscathed- much to his relief.

With the cage now in position, Haery's great red dragon form crouched protectively in front of his men now exiting the cage just as swiftly as they had in the training exercises. He let out his own utterly ferocious loud roar; terrifying all the enemy men around who'd never even thought to hear such an ominous sound in all their lives.

The men, being led by Ser Barristan the Bold, were making quick work of the city guards in place so he focused his attention upon any threat that could come at them from the interior of the city and the road before him.

He saw others of the city guard approaching quickly. However, when they took one look at him, their resolve faltered with many of the men stopping in their track's in sheer terror.

He could easily hear the duels taking place behind him as their men fought to gain control of the gate, and he knew they were holding their own at the moment. He then spied some men of a different sort to the rather weak city guards approaching him. While most of the guards had halted on sighting him and ran for reinforcements, men of the Storm Crows were filing in from the direction of the two side streets that crossed the main road he currently stood in the middle of.

While they too looked frightened of his dragon form, they were not shying away as the city guard had.

He saw them split off into groups of four to five men a piece as they loaded crossbows and readied their spears that had materialized from somewhere.

He roared defiantly at them all; lashing his long spiked tail in their direction in warning.

Some appeared to lose their resolve (from the scent he could tell one man had even pissed himself in fear) and falter, but most remained steady. He mentally had to at least give them props for bravery; however idiotic it may have been.

One group of spearmen began approaching him from the left, and another group from the right, as all of those in possession of a crossbow loosed their bolt's at him at the same time from an unknown signal.

There must have been ten to twelve bolts released at once flying towards his hard scales. Most simply bounced harmlessly off his magically enhanced natural scaled armor, but several did manage to penetrate his skin due to hitting at just the correct point where scale met scale, but did not overlap. They were mere pin pricks at best, but his inner dragon within him had him roaring in anger at their audacity to even attempt attacking a beast as mighty as he.

Directly after loosing the first volley of bolts directly at his dragon form, the two detachments of spearmen came at him from the sides as their companion's loaded a second round as quickly as they could in the face of his fury.

Despite still trying to maintain his focus on those directly before him, he saw them coming at him with their spear's raised and at the ready.

With a powerful swipe of his long tail, he barreled over the spearmen to his left as he sucked in a large breath and quickly unleashed a torrent of black and red dragonfire upon those coming at him from the right; burning three of the four spearmen alive as their blood-curdling scream's rang out through the night air as a warning more deadly and terrifying than anything he could conjure.

Swiping his massive horned head this way and that as he searched for the most immediate threat, he saw that their own men had nearly finished securing the gate. However, he also saw a sight that set his dragon blood to boiling in rage.

Off to the right on the second level of the walls, he saw a large man of at least six and a half feet cowardly approaching Ser Barristan with his sword raised and poised to strike from behind.

He would not allow such a dastardly deed go unpunished. Ser Barristan did not deserve such an ignoble end after all his many and glorious years of service to House Targaryen.

Striking nearly as quick as a viper, his head darted forward in an instant; biting down on the swine as his sharp-toothed jaws violently tore in to the scum. He shook his head quickly from side to side; shaking the bastard like a rag doll and tearing out a massive chunk of the man's mid-section.

Blood ran down his gullet in rivulets as he tore the fiend apart and some inner and primal part of him that was the spirit of the dragon reveled in the blood and gore of feasting upon an enemy. It relished the carnage and it took every ounce of his self-control to tamp down on such base instincts.

Ser Barristan turned his head the second he heard the awful sound of flesh being ripped apart from bone and tendon and the screaming it had induced from behind him and widened his eye's at seeing his prince's draconic self tearing into a member of the Storm Crows that had undoubtedly been poised to strike him down from behind.

Out of the peripheral of his vision after he had spat out the chunk of the man he'd just killed, he saw the Kingsguard's eyes widen as a look of panic and fear graced his aged-lined face.

Before Ser Barristan even had time to shout out a warning, he _felt_ rather than _saw_ the cause of the knight's distress.

Haery felt a sudden and piercing pain jolt through his lower body as he let out a keen screech of agony and distress.

He realized he had just been stabbed! He had been bloody stabbed!

Off in the distance, he was vaguely aware of Balaeria's answering screech and knew his father's bonded mount could feel what had caused him such agony and was distressed by his plight. He held a bond deeper to all their dragon's than anyone else due to his kindred animagus form as they considered him their kin. He'd even been capable of persuading a couple of the dragons to tolerate more than just their bonded rider. For the first time in recorded history, three of their dragon's would actually allow someone besides their bonded to ride them, though of course they had to have at least some of the blood of the dragon coursing thru their veins as well.

He swiveled his large head back around and managed to identify the cause of the pain radiating within him.

At the side of his lower body he saw a well-muscled blue haired Tyroshi sell-sword whom appeared to be one of the leaders of the Storm Crows if he had to wager a guess in his addled state. Still somewhat stunned by the pain coursing through him, he was unable to react fast enough as the flamboyantly-dressed Tyroshi mercenary prepared to strike at him again. It was then that he caught sight of the tell-tale ripple in the fiend's blade, and instantly realized he'd been stabbed by Valyrian Steel- one of the few things that could actually harm him.

He was not the only one shocked however when just as the blade was about to cut into his flesh for the second time, he caught a flash of silver hair seemingly taking flight- so fast was it moving towards the man doing his damnedest to kill him.

He knew it could be no one other than Aegon as his father was too far away.

Despite the agony coursing through him as well as the searing pain in his abdomen when trying to inhale such breath, he readied himself to unleash a jet of molten-hot flame on the sell-sword and destroy the bastard. He was brought to an abrupt halt when the man managed to plunge his steel into him once more.

His roar of agony could be heard all the way to the main bulk of their army miles off in the distance well beyond the city walls.

The second strike, tearing through him faster than he'd thought any man capable of, was deep in the belly of his dragon form where his scales were their weakest. The Valyrian Steel managed to pierce into him all the way down to the bone- a remarkably difficult feat considering a dragon's bone dexterity.

His lower half was nearly collapsed forward, but he still managed to use his tail to impale three of the blue-bearded Tyroshi's comrades on his spikes as he breathed dragonfire onto another bunch of them attempting to sneak up on him.

He was unable to deal out any retribution to the scum that actually injured him as Egg was now reigning down blow after blow onto the sell-sword who vaguely reminded him of a poor imitation of an Eighteenth Century color-blind pirate in his old world.

'At least the gate was secure.' He thought to himself as he noted row after row of ranks of Unsullied pouring in thru the now wide open city gate.

Ser Barristan had taken up a vigil next to his dragon form. The Kingsguard was all but daring any of the Son's of the Harpy that comprised the city guard of Mereen, or an adventurous Storm Crow that thought to test their luck on slaying a dragon to approach his injured prince. He did not think he'd ever seen the man as wroth as he was a present.

Haery had definitely never before seen his normally so light-hearted and sweet natured best friend as utterly enraged as _he_ was at present.

Aegon's sword was dancing through the air in deadly waltz of spark and steel as it battled against his foe. The Storm Crow leader he was battling must have picked up a regular blade from someone else as he was intimately aware of the Valyrian Steel currently stuck in one of the bones in his lower extremities. Despite the agonizing pain of the blade within him, he still managed to be awed by his cousin's wroth and determination to end the one who inflicted such pain onto him.

Egg's face was a rictus righteous fury as he unleashed hell upon the sell-sword who'd injured his best friend. Normally, he'd not likely stand a chance against the obviously much more experienced Tyroshi, but the boy's desire for retribution was giving him the strength and reflexes needed to hold his own.

Some of the few Stormcrow's remaining obviously noticed the turning of the tides as the Unsullied entered the open gate. They appeared to be readying themselves to aid their leader in killing both the silver-haired princeling he was ferociously dueling, and the white-cloaked elder knight protectively stationed in front of the injured dragon. He thought it was likely in an effort to fight their way out of the city altogether.

They split off into two teams of about five men each. One heading towards their captain, the other to finish off Ser Barristan and himself.

Even though he was under tremendous strain from his wound and attempting to move was agonizing in the extreme, he would _not_ let them kill those he cared about whilst there was breath remaining in his body.

While Ser Barristan saw them approaching and steeled his resolve to defend his charge, Haery managed to overcome the pain and regained his footing just in time to strike. Lashing out with his tail, he knocked Egg's opponent into his approaching comrades; knocking them all to the ground and actually killing two of them when his spikes pierced their light armor. Then, as gently as he could manage, he used his tail to move Ser Barristan slightly behind him as he released a massive burst of flames onto the other five mercenaries that were nearing them; roasting all of them within their armor. Their scream's rent the night air as the stench of burnt flesh permeated his senses and their flesh sloughed off their bones.

Turning back to his friend, he noticed that the gaudy Tyroshi sell-sword had not managed to regain his momentum after he'd been knocked over and was back-tracking on the defensive as Aegon cut into him mercilessly in retribution. One after the other, Egg delivered bloody cutting jabs breaking through the sell-sword's armor from sheer determination and rage. It was almost like watching in slow motion as Aegon feinted to the left; causing the Tyroshi to ready himself to block from such an angle. Almost faster than the eye could see, he switched back to the right; nearly dancing with his blade in an upward strike. He used all of his momentum and landed a forceful blow by sliding his steel into the Tyroshi's now-exposed flesh; getting up in-between his cuirass and gorget. He watched as the blade was suddenly twisted; causing the well built man to drop to his knee's in utter agony.

Egg viscously yanked his blade out of the Tyroshi's collapsed body and pulled off the man's helmet.

He looked to be attempting to say something, no doubt begging for his life to be spared, and Haery could see the light reflecting off the man's golden tooth shining in the night.

With a look of the utmost loathing in his violet eye's, Aegon grabbed the sell-sword by his curly braided blue hair and violently ran his sword over the scum's neck; slitting his throat and quickly ending his life as arterial blood sprayed him in the face.

By that point they were surrounded by a large detachment of Unsullied guard and he motioned with his head for Ser Barristan to allow Aegon closer to him. His friend was bleeding from a seemingly large number of wounds himself he'd earned fighting the much more experienced sell-sword captain. Still, he was at his side in an instant.

He motioned as best as he was able for him to remove the Valyrian Steel sword that was still embedded in him. He knew he had to get that out and at least partially healed before he dared to transform back. Otherwise, such an injury could be lethal in human form.

Having studied much about dragons including their healing and physiology since coming to live with the Targaryen's, he instantly knew what to do.

As quickly as he could, Egg yanked the blade out of him as he let out a roar of pain that was fast subsiding.

With the Valyrian Steel removed, the dragon's naturally fast healing began to take over. After all, it takes alot more than a couple of stabs to bring down a dragon as large as his animagus form.

He backed away from them all several feet before spitting a small amount of flame onto the second and more dangerous wound; cauterizing it over faster than even a dragon's accelerated healing would have.

He gnashed at his teeth to prevent him himself from emitting any more signs of weakness and felt as his body began to slowly morph back into his human form now that he was no longer in danger. He'd take a few days to heal completely, but he'd accept that over the length of time it would have taken to heal like that as a non-magical human any day. As soon as he finished shifting back to his regular silver-blonde self, he collapsed from the both physical as well as magical exhaustion. Egg just barely managed to clutch onto him and with Ser Barristan's help, eased him down to the ground.

"Thanks, Egg; Ser Barry." He managed to get out; his childhood nickname for the Kingsguard being used for the first time in years and he saw the old man smile while his friend held him close.

"Rest, Jae. We won. You're safe. Just rest now." Egg said quietly as he saw his father approaching on Balaeria and everything suddenly went black.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter IX.**

 **Author's Note-** _Thanks to those who reviewed. This is just one smaller chapter from Rhaenys' POV and will show how her mind works and what motivates her in life. The War is resumed in the next chapter after this one that will have Haery, Rhaenys, and Viserys flying their dragon's in battle for the first time together and Oberyn and some of the Sand Snakes make an appearance as well. Things are beginning to happen fast so it will not be long till we're in Westeros most of the time. Thanks!_

 **Disclaimer:** I Own Nothing.

* * *

 **~ Princess Rhaenys Targaryen I ~**

 _New Palace: Kingsport, 297 AL._

'He will be fourteen today.' Rhaenys thought sadly to herself as she looked out over the ever-expanding streets and port that was quickly coming together as the new capital city of House Targaryen's Essosi holdings.

She could hardly believe it had been a year and a half since she had seen her beloved brother and best-friend. All their lives, they'd never been apart for longer than a single night since the day her little brother was born and she first held him in her arms when she was only three name days. It was almost directly after her mother had been murdered. Her little brother's bright smiles and the warm connection she shared with him had truly been the only thing that had helped her get over her loss and the traumatic events she'd borne witness to within the court of the Mad Dragon- their grandfather King Aerys II.

She could barely remember the Princess Elia Nymeros-Martell. Though she did remember loving her just as fiercely as she knew her mother had loved her. While her mother had been taken from her far too soon, she had been blessed because she had been gifted someone in her stead that she had quickly grown to love with all her heart. Almost since the day her mother died, Jae had been the most important person in her life.

Oh, she certainly loved her father and Lya too- adored them even.

No girl could have ever asked for better parents than those whom she had been bestowed with. Her beloved Papa had been gone the same amount of time as her brother, but somehow...it was just harder to deal with the separation from him.

Their time spent since Jaehaerys and Rhaegar had left for distant Slaver's Bay had not been idle, not by any means. It seemed as if one event after the other was quickly besieging them (thankfully not yet _literally_ besieging them). As she was nearly ten and seven name days, she was now considered a woman grown and therefore was constantly having to sit in on the family council and receive ambassadors and dignitaries with the help of the Dowager Queen and Lya. Yet, through it all, neither the pain of separation nor the loneliness brought about by her beloved brother's departure had numbed the pain of his absence in the slightest.

She knew she was not the only one experiencing such a lonely existence either.

Her family was very close-knit. Because they'd been forced to spend so much of their lives in hiding from the Usurper, all they'd ever known or had was each other. She knew Dany had it nearly as bad as she did. She too was desperately missing her, 'Haery'.

She chuckled at that.

She always called him, 'Jae' and Dany had always called him by her own nickname- 'Haery'.

If not for her Aunt Daenerys, she thought she very well might have gone crazy these past un-endingly long months.

She used to occasionally become jealous of the relationship their younger aunt shared with her brother, but those days had long since past. Dany had become her anchor nearly as much as Jae. She would readily admit that the two of them were her best friends in all the world. There was literally nothing she would not do for either one of them. All throughout their childhood's, it had always been the three of them. They had been thick as thieves since first Jaehaerys and then Daenerys began to walk. Most of the time it took but a look of one from the other, and they'd know instantly whatever was on the other's mind. Words had barely even been necessary.

Their adventures in what some would call the mythological or supernatural had also bonded them on another level entirely.

When she and Dany had discovered Jaehaerys practicing his magic and trying to transform into his dragon form for the first time, they had been completely stunned.

Most people would have thought him crazy, or perhaps evil (if you asked a septon/septa and/or a maester), but Rhaenys knew better. She well remembered the legends Queen Rhaella told them of Old Valyria and just what some of their ancestor's had been capable of. Sure, it had been shocking that her own brother had been the embodiment of those legends made flesh, but neither Rhaenys nor Daenerys had been too surprised. They'd both seen him do the seemingly impossible numerous times before after all.

After that night, the three of them spent a part of nearly every night in the future diligently practicing the arts of Sorcery. All Targaryen's were capable of the talents to at least some degree. Some just had much more ability and power than others. Their grandmother, the Queen was a rather strong sorceress, but Jae...he was something else entirely. There almost seemed to be no end to the wondrous things he could do if he wanted something badly enough. Watching him practice magic was truly a beautiful sight to behold.

He had shown both Rhaenys and Daenerys that they too were capable of some of the same things. Though admittedly, her brother held within him some sort of... _additional_...form of powers that were unlike anything she'd ever even heard of.

Thinking back to those days, Rhaenys was still uncertain of how any boy of only six name days had become so very advanced as her little brother had been at that age. They all knew he was a prodigy of some kind, but that was almost too exceptional even for him. She dearly hoped that one day he'd reveal the things she knew he still kept hidden from her. (It would have angered her by this point, considering how close they were with one another, if she did not know in her heart that there was something that was... _somehow_...quite literally preventing him from explaining the full truth.)

Under his tutelage, both she and Daenerys had progressed quite quickly and seemed to pick up instruction from him at an amazing pace. She knew that if her brother ever decided to abdicate as king one day, he'd be able to have a wonderful career as a teacher. He had a real gift for helping others to learn, and she thought him an extremely adept instructor.

From the very beginning of their training with each other, the three of them had noticed a rather... _curious_ effect: when they were all three together, their power's were much... _much_...stronger than they ever were apart. She'd never been able to figure out the exact reason (though she had her own suspicion's), but the facts were undeniable. They were much more powerful together. Any spell attempted was produced with far greater ease and efficiency and was also _far_ stronger if all three of them were there.

That was saying nothing of the results of anything they cast in combination. If they cast the same spell...the results were absolutely phenomenal.

She had once overheard a conversation between her father and her grandmother years ago that had led to her asking a number of questions mostly to herself. (She had _not_ been eavesdropping!)

Her father had told the Queen that he believed the three of them were the prophesied, ' _Three Heads of the Dragon_ ' of legend that their ancestor (and many other seers) foretold the coming of.

At first, she'd thought it all non-sense.

Her father always did have a tendency to ponder things of a daunting nature, and at times could become somewhat melancholic. Such thoughts never lasted however, as Lya would always be there to anchor him and remind him of the joy they had in each other and in their family. Watching her ability to wholly brighten her father's countenance with naught but a smile and her presence alone, always made Rhaenys yearn and hope for her future. When she was younger, she prayed that she herself would find a partner of her own one day, and that she could share in a love the likes of which her parent's clearly held with one another.

Such were the things which made life worth living in her eye's.

Despite her skepticism of portents and prophecy and the like, it was after that over-heard conversation that the thought first came to her that perhaps she did not have to look too far to discover what her heart and destiny yearned for.

Still, she had continued to doubt the validity of the three of them being the 'Chosen Ones.' Surely, they could not be any kind of prophesied ' _saviors_ '.

That lasted till she asked herself exactly how common did she think the things the three of them were capable of truly were?

Her answer was easy: _not at all_ common...even for sorcerer's.

That overheard conversation had been enlightening for many reasons.

Their exact words had all but haunted her mind ever since.

* * *

Flashback

It was late at night, and there were more lights on in the drawing room than there normally would have been at that hour. She knew it was wrong, but she had always possessed an extremely inquisitive nature. She could therefore not help herself when she pressed her ear against the crack open in the doorway and listened in.-

" _I have to admit, even I was surprised by just what those three have been able to accomplish of late; and at such a young age at that! The girls are stronger than any in our family since before the Doom at the least, and Jaehaerys' level of powers are absolutely unheard of. He'll be well past anything Brynden Rivers could do whilst still being a child. Of course that's saying nothing of the powers I can feel him occasionally use (especially when he shifts forms), that are unlike anything I've ever even heard of. It's still nearly unfathomable that proof of the ancient legends would show itself in our time's."_

 _"Admittedly though, if there were ever a greater time of need, I am not aware of when that would have been. If those old prophesies hold any weight, I cannot imagine how it could mean anyone but Jaehaerys and the girls...I sometimes wonder just what that shall mean for them?" Rhaella said to her eldest son._

 _"I know, Mother. I worry for him...for all of them really. We have no idea how our lives will unfold in these uncertain times. I am certain of one thing though: whatever the future holds in store for our children, I have no doubt that they'll meet it head on and destroy anything that stands in their paths. They are our real future. We're merely paving their way. I see the potential for such greatness within all three of them. Their relationship is so very similar to what we know of the tales of the union of Aegon the Dragon and his sister's. The parallels are undeniably manifest, and I cannot imagine them apart. They are each three parts of a whole." Rhaegar replied._

 _The Queen looked thoughtful for a moment before replying._

 _"You see it too. Do you not?" She asked._

Rhaenys had no idea what her grandmother was referring to in that moment. She was soon to find herself illuminated.

 _Rhaegar let out an humorous snort._

 _"See it? I'd have to say it's almost blindingly obvious. They...all three of them...they are more than connected. They were meant for each other. Of that I have no doubt." He answered._

Rhaenys' eyes widened as she suddenly realized just what her father was implying concerning Jae, Dany, and herself. The three of them...together in the future. Just like Aegon the Conqueror and her namesake and Visenya. That was just...she was unsure how to feel about it. Though, she was not overly surprised to find she did not find the idea distasteful in any way. Not like she would have had someone suggested a union between herself and Viserys or even Aelyx.

 _"How would you feel about that? How do you think the_ realm _would feel about it? Do you think the dangers..." The Queen trailed off as she momentarily lost herself in thought._

 _"Well...I do not believe I'd be exactly opposed to such a thing. Not after the way they've grown up together. Their bond is unlike anything I've ever witnessed, and if that is the direction their relationship takes them, who are we to gainsay the will of the god's? That's the only way such powers would appear in all three of them in such a remarkably intriguing manner. Their relationship is almost symbiotic. Besides, none of them are full-blooded siblings. I believe the risk to their future children would be...minimal. Also, with the re-birth of the dragons, I do not foresee too much in the way of opposition. I'm nearly certain the magick_ is _playing, and will_ continue _to play, a large part of their union. I actually have a theory about that." Rhaegar replied._

She had been thoroughly shocked to hear her father's thoughts on the three of them. She had never really thought about anything like that, but at the same time, she could not imagine life without Dany and Jae in it always.

Nothing else seemed right to her.

 _"I believe you are right. My thought's on the matter were similar. I just hope they're luckier than some have been, and what theory do you mean?" The Queen asked._

 _"The magic. I remember the archives at Dragonstone. In the past, sorcery was always at the heart of our family. Almost every single dragon rider was also a very capable sorcerer. After all, an empire like Valyria could never have remained as the predominant power in the world for thousands of years if all the blood purity did was manage to produce rulers like Father or Aerion Brightflame. It is also highly likely they would have bred themselves into extinction. We did not have these problems in the past. The only real difference that I can find (besides the introduction of the blood of a few different lines of Queen's not of Valyrian descent) was that fact that all the Targaryen's of Old remained strong in their magicks."_

 _"However, something began to change after the Exodus. The usage of magic by members of our house began to decline because of the predominance of the Andal Faith of the Seven in Westeros. I believe what really doomed our family though (not that he was aware of it nor do I think he did it intentionally of course) was when the Conciliator submitted to the Faith."_

 _"The Old King was a strong sorcerer. He was as strong as Visenya had been at the least. Before King Jaehaerys' time, there were no records (no more than anybody else's family anyway), of problems with insanity or large-scale fertility issues effecting them. Even Maegor was sane; power-hungry and cruel, certainly- but that did not mean he was mad. The more the use of magic dwindled, the more problems one generally associated with inbreeding became apparent. The dragons were becoming smaller too. After the Dance, there were no more sorcerers left. None remained even from the few that had managed to remain shadowed from the Faith- at least none that knew how to actually use magic. In the end, my hypothesis is this: no magic, no dragons." Rhaegar said; explaining his thought's more in-depth._

 _The Queen's eyes had widened at her son's words._

She could almost see the wheels beginning to turn in her grandmother's sharp mind.

 _"You know, My Son? I do believe you are on to something there. That would actually explain so much. I remember as a girl finding in the old journals on Dragonstone one reference that was remarkably similar to your own supposition. The journal originated in the era from before the Conquest. It was the recordings of a daughter of House Targaryen from around a couple of centuries before the Doom."_

 _"In it, she spoke of the similarities between themselves and their dragons. If I remember correctly, she was referring to the problem she was then facing. The current Lord Targaryen of that era was, by necessity, marrying his only daughter off to another son of one of the Forty because they were in rather desperate need to secure the other family's alliance. However, the daughter was very much in love with her brother. I remember her writing about how both siblings were very strong in their magic, and that they'd always felt drawn to one another. She wrote how it felt like the most natural thing in the world to her, and for him it was the same. Just as their family's dragons always mated with each other, so too did their rider's strong in magic mate with their own kind. Her own parent's and grandparent's had been similar."_

 _"The lady had said those whom were powerful in their magicks were oftentimes bred to be the next lords of the house. It had been especially true in times past that such had been the case, and she wished for one of their weaker cousin's to marry into the other family. She did not wish to take the chance of producing_ 'damaged' _children. After five millennia, nearly all of the Forty were strongly inter-related. Her prospective bridegroom was not strong in magic and was from one of the family's that while they were very wealthy, had been forced to use those damnable dragonhorns that our own family so disdained. She went on to illustrate how if one who was strong in magic mated with what she called a '_ weak-blooded scion _', their offspring was just as likely to be mad as they were to be a powerful dragonrider. To ensure the magic was strong, you must have a similar mate. Her word's were something to the effect of,_ 'one would always produce a real dragon versus a mummer's dragon'. _"_ _Rhaella had described._

 _Her father had looked very intrigued hearing his mother's exposition and nodded his head in interest._

 _"Concerning the Dance, you are exactly right about that. I studied quite a lot about that particular era. To my knowledge, Queen Rhaenyra (Rhaella always referred to Rhaenyra as the 'rightful' ruling monarch during the Dance of the Dragons) was the last of our line before myself to actively practice the arts. Her father indulged her as well as insured the High Septon turned a blind eye, but after his death that was one of the main reasons the Faith and the Citadel were more supportive of Aegon II. Well, that and Alicent Hightower. Rhaenyra never had the chance to teach Aegon or Viserys- both of whom were reportedly very strong in magic, but had no knowledge or training to utilize their gift's, and her Velaryon boys were killed. Alicent Hightower made certain that any remaining vestiges within our family that had kept their knowledge hidden after the Old King's death were purged. The loss of Prince Daemon was also a great blow as he was even more knowledgeable, if not quite as powerful, as his lady wife."_

 _"In short, I think they, and their future children will bear the mark of greatness upon them. Aerys was a mummer's dragon. Of that, there was no doubt. Those three on the other hand, are incredibly strong in magic. None of them or theirs will share such a fate." The Queen said._

 _Her father had appeared to be thinking deeply upon his mother's words before he eventually replied._

 _"So, you think I should simply allow nature to take it's course as it were?" He questioned._

 _"Yes. I believe that if those three have the same type of bond close to that of Aegon, Rhaenys, and Visenya...then whom are we to interfere if it be their will?"_

 _"That is what we shall do then. I will do my best to make certain Lyanna does not think on too unkindly on the prospect. It should not be difficult as she adores the girls as if they were her own in any case, and Lya only ever wished for their happiness. If it were Aelyx, Valarr, or Valaerie; I would not allow it as I am still too reticent about full-blooded siblings mixing the blood, but Rhaenys, Jaehaerys, and Daenerys are not so closely related as all that." Her father concluded as he chuckled at the end._

 _"You know, they're quite like their dragon's too. Those three dragon's are by far not only the leaders of the pack so to speak, but also closer with each other than any of the others by far." Rhaegar added with a smile; likely remembering just as Rhaenys herself was at that moment, just how precocious their three dragon's were together._

She had heard more than enough at that time, and had quickly departed back to her room's lest she be discovered.

End Flashback

* * *

That night, she had gone to bed with thoughts different than she had ever experienced in the past; thinking...and soon dreaming...of a life and future with those she held closest to her heart always at each other's sides.

In the years to come, such thoughts would begin to evolve into desires of a different kind as her body slowly began to change to that of a woman and her younger partner's seemed to begin to finally catch up with her. Her dream's had become more involved and mature over time; being filled with images of her brother and her aunt as they aged. Although they had still been mostly of an innocent nature the last time she had seen her brother, she could no longer deny the thoughts and feelings his name evoked within her in the darkest recess of her mind.

Soon, the mere thought of him had begun to fill her heart and consume her. She could only imagine what he would look like now that he had completely finished going through puberty and was becoming a man.

She knew for a fact that Dany had also begun to feel exactly the same as she.

Jae's absence had at least allowed for her and Dany to finally realize what it was that their heart's desired. They had discussed it, and reached an agreement between themselves where Jaehaerys was concerned. They knew they both loved him, and knew his heart was large enough for the both of them. If he desired it, he would never be forced to choose. They loved each other enough to share his love.

Her heart pounded with exhilaration as she stood still upon the balcony overlooking the sea. She somehow just knew she would finally be setting eyes upon her beloved brother soon. She knew not how she knew this; only that it was so. Their bond no doubt at work as the cause.

The last time she had seen her brother he had been barely on the cusp of becoming a young man. Jaehaerys always bore a strong resemblance to their father, but he was also his own person in both opinion and look as well. She had long thought that he was even more handsome than their father (an opinion shared by many as difficult as some would believe such a feat to be, but true nevertheless), and could only imagine what he must look like after such a long time apart.

She eyed the blue waters of the Narrow Sea intently; almost as if she could will the seas to produce that which her heart missed most.

Rhaenys felt a hand on her shoulder as she looked over slightly to see the younger girl that had been her only anchor and solace these past many moons that the missing third of their trio had been gone from them both.

"Good Morning, Dany." She greeted her young aunt and best friend.

Today, Dany wore the brightest smile Rhaenys had seen on the younger girl in quite some time. Her whole face lit up and it somehow managed to enhance her already ethereal beauty to a near-unearthly degree. She was wearing a light violet dress made of Myrish silk that clung to her still-developing frame; sinfully enhancing her curves and quickly growing cleavage.

"Good Morning, Rhaenys! You look gorgeous as ever on this fine morning. Isn't it a wonderful day!" Dany said brightly.

Rhaenys raised an eyebrow at her aunt's...lively...and unusually up-beat mood. She was curious as to what may have caused such a reaction from the other girl who had missed her brother near as much as Rhaenys herself had. She was also appreciative of the compliment. Of the two of them, she'd always think Daenerys the more beautiful of the pair, but Dany herself would always claim the opposite. They were as different as night was to day, but both were undeniably beautiful.

"Good morning to you too, Dany. What exactly has you in such a bright mood today?" She asked curiously.

Daenerys looked her straight in to her eye's and smiled.

"He'll be home today, Rhae! He's finally coming home!" She exclaimed.

Her excitement at the prospect of seeing their best friend again after so long an absence was palpable.

Rhaenys felt her breath leave her momentarily.

She had hoped...she had so longed for it...but she had tried not to get her hope's up too much. She then realized something.

Dany seemed so sure of her words, as if she knew beyond any and all doubt that today they would indeed be with him again.

She _had_ to have had a vision.

She knew that amongst them, while they all had the occasional prophetic dream, Daenerys _saw_ many more things on a much more regular basis. She was also known to have never been wrong a single time. If Dany said she _saw_ Jaehaerys arriving today; he would be arriving today.

"Did you _see_ him, Dany?"

Her voice was almost trembling with undisguised hope.

Dany smiled back to her in perfect contentment.

"Indeed I did, Rhae. He'll be back to us today. Fear not." She said with a near blinding smile.

She almost startled Dany when she jumped up to hug her in her own excitement.

"Oh, thank the god's. I've missed him so." She whispered.

Dany just held her close to her.

"So have I...so have I. Now, come on. Let's get you done up! I want to see his eye's when he set's his sight on the two of us for the first time in so long!" Dany said with a mischievous twinkle of deviousness in her eye's.

Oh, she almost felt sorry for her poor little brother.

Now that both she and Dany were old enough to know exactly what they wanted in life, he would not know what hit him.

Between the two of them, poor Jaehaerys would be putty in their delectable hands...and he would be all theirs. He belonged to them the same as they belonged to him and him alone. They both knew there would never be anybody else for them. They may all be open to trying new things with new people, but in the end...in the end, it would always be the three of them for the rest of their lives.

Rhaenys smiled easily as she allowed Daenerys to lead her over to her wardrobe.

'Yes, today would be a good day indeed.' She thought.

* * *

She looked at herself in the mirror and smiled.

Dany had done an excellent job.

Daenerys had insisted they both be at their absolute best when her brother arrived. If for no other reason than just to see his reaction.

While Dany wore a dress of light violet Myrish silk, Rhaenys' own choice was a similarly styled dress of the deepest purple. It contrasted well with her tan skin and brought out her deep violet eye's.

The silken fabric hugged her frame and blatantly displayed her sensuous figure to maximum effect. The dress was sleeveless and the bodice was low and tight with only two small silk straps holding her ample cleavage nearly on full display.

She had to admit, she looked stunning.

Rarely had she ever worn anything quite so provocative, and she felt a tiny bit of a thrill and expectation mounting at what Jae's reaction would be to seeing her so enticingly displayed.

Daenerys had taken a bit of kohl and lightly dusted her eye's; creating a sultry smoky effect that brought out her deep violet eye's and gave her an even more exotic look than her Rhoynish blood already gave her. The tiny bit of color applied to her cheeks and lips completed the look and the vision standing before her looking glass would be hard pressed to be thought of as any man's sister.

And therein lay the heart of her worries.

Jaehaerys was closer to her by quite a large margin than he was to any of his full-blooded siblings. The same as her, he had never made any distinction between Rhaenys and the others and had never once referred to her as his 'half-sister'. She'd always been his dearest sister and the fact that they shared different mother's had not been an issue between them. If anything, it only brought her closer to him.

She cut her eye's to the vision of Valyrian perfection standing beside her that Daenerys made.

Despite being raised together the same as Rhaenys had been, there had never been any confusion with Dany's relation to Jaehaerys. She may have been as close to Jae as Rhaenys herself growing up, but she'd not ever been looked upon as a sibling. She was their father's little sister; never his own.

In a family such as theirs, that slight distinction made all the difference in the world when one began to look for appropriate consorts. It had been an understood thing in their family that Daenerys was always a distinct possibility in regards to her potential as a future bride for Jaehaerys. While fairly closely related, a union between the two of them would never hold the same stigma with some as a union between Jaehaerys and Rhaenys.

In truth, there was little difference in the degree of consanguinity between Daenerys and Jaehaerys, and Rhaenys and Jaehaerys. If anything, due to the sibling marriages of their grandparent's and their great grandparent's, Rhaenys and Jaehaerys actually held a far more diverse pedigree due to their mother's differing blood.

To the realm however, it was the relation between Rhaenys and Jaehaerys that would be so looked down upon.

She did not quite even know how to describe why she desired him so.

It was an all-consuming thing, and she knew no amount of trying would change anything for her.

She did not think it even possible for her to not desire him with all her heart.

It simply was.

The very idea of being with anyone else permanently was repugnant to her. She could not bring herself to even contemplate such a thing.

Her troubled thought's must have been plainly visible for she soon felt Dany take her hand and lead her over to her bedroom's sitting area.

Once comfortably situated, Dany turned to face her directly.

"What's the matter? I though you'd be happy that he's coming home today?" She asked her concernedly.

She did not even bother pretending confusion to that which Daenerys spoke of. The bond between the three of them made lying impossible.

"I don't know what to do, Dany."

She sighed deeply. She was not certain how to exactly to explain what had her worried so.

Daenerys narrowed her eye's in thought.

"You're worried about getting him to see you as more than just his favorite sister, aren't you?"

Dany had always been far more perceptive than most presumed.

"Yes. Even if we both know what we want, you know how he is. Even if he _does_ want us...want me...how could we get him over his own conscience? With you, no one would think much of it, nobles in Westeros wed often enough with the same degree of relationship that the two of you share. He's always known that you'd be a possibility as a potential bride. _Me_ on the other hand..." She trailed off then.

Her own thought's and feeling's were so wrapped up and twisted together that she could not even find the correct words to describe all that was troubling her.

Dany's voice brought her back to the conversation at hand.

"No man could look at you right now and think, ' _sister_ '. You should also remember something important. If we've been having dreams so similar, you know perfectly well he's been having them too. We may never know the exact reasoning for the connection between the three of us, but it's undeniable. If we've been seeing the both of us and him in our dream's, so too has he. Mine have been much too similar to your own for them to not have originated through our bond. I know in my heart he feels the same for us as we do for him."

"Will it be a trial for us to get him to act on his own desire's?" Dany questioned.

She answered herself just as quickly.

"Certainly, it will."

"You know how dense he can be with regards to matters of the heart. For someone so smart, that's one area he's as dumb as an oxen. I have no doubt that the both of us will have to make things crystal clear to him. Once we have however, well...he's not completely daft. He wants us as much as we do him. I know you can feel it in your heart and magic both the same as me, Rhaenys."

"Dragons have always mated with each other. The stronger the power, the stronger the desire. It's as undeniable as it is unalterable. As long as you leave him without any doubt as to what _you_ desire, he'll not be able to deny his own nature even if he wished it." She said in a tone of finality.

Dany spoke softly next.

"Trust in your own heart, Rhae...trust in your own power's. They'll never lead us astray."

She sat there and absorbed her younger aunt's words that were wiser beyond her years, and she knew instinctually that she was right. Her own magic was virtually humming in her vein's; confirming the truth of Dany's words.

She was right and she just had to trust in that. She would not allow herself to be beaten down by her own self-doubt, nor would she allow the opinion of others to dictate whom her heart could love.

She unconsciously straightened her spine.

She was the Dragon's daughter, and she bowed to none.

With that realization, she felt her own magic singing in her vein's. It was light and joyously happy at it's mistress's resolve to gain that which her magic too desired.

She felt freer than she had in a long while and Dany was beaming at her; delighted that she had found her own inner strength that Daenerys had always claimed was so strong within her.

In the next moment before anything else could be said, both girls turned their head's sharply in the direction of the door of Rhaenys' suite.

Both of their eye's immediately dilated slightly; widening as they felt the build-up of distinctly familiar magic calling out to them.

"He's coming." She whispered and Dany leaned forward and lightly took her hand into her own.

Moments later, a loud crack of displaced air disturbed the silence that seemed be permeating the palace at present as well as large influx of magic and sheer raw power they immediately felt not very far away.

Jaehaerys had finally come home.

She looked to Dany and smiled brightly at her companion.

Daenerys' smile was as brilliant as her own.

No words needed to be spoken.

They silently rose form their chair's, hands still clasped together, and all but ran from the room.

The intoxicating feel of Jaehaerys' tantalizing power bid both girls to forget any previous insecurity. Their own magic was calling to him and it would _not_ be denied.

* * *

They immediately flung the door open that was separating them from their bond-mate as together they stood upon the threshold of Jaehaerys' rooms that had gone unoccupied for so long, and drank in the sight that stood before them.

Standing just outside of his room's balcony overlooking the sea with a new tunic in hand, they both laid eyes on their other half for the first time in a year and a half.

The light near mid-day sun was shining down upon him as he stood there shirtless looking for all the world like the most beautiful statue of a young Valyrian god of the Sun.

His silver-blonde hair was longer than when he left; resting past his shoulders in waves of liquid silver. He also appeared to have grown several more inches in height; standing now at close to six feet tall. His shoulder's had broadened and they could now see definition in his toned back which curved slightly ending in his firm backside which his black leather pants were clinging to sinfully.

Jaehaerys had to have sensed their presence the moment they entered, despite how silent they had both been.

He quickly turned away from the view of the sea and set his eye's on them for the first time in what felt like an age.

If she had thought he was impressive from the rear, it was nothing compared to the magnificence she currently beheld.

His face had lost any remaining trace of childhood and was now all sharp angles and refined definition.

Jaehaerys' silken hair was pulled behind his ear's; allowing them to clearly see every little change that had been wrought on their lost one during their separation.

His cheekbone's were more prominent without the lingering traces of childhood, and finely arched darker silver brows framed his still ridiculously long-lashed heavy eye lids and searing deep violet eyes. His perfectly proportioned aquiline nose seemed slightly more prominent, and if possible, his full pink lips almost seemed fuller; something she'd not thought possible.

He had always been beautiful beyond any compare, and now age and time had only enhanced the vision before them.

She could not tear her eye's away from his still-growing muscular body.

She continued her perusal of his person, and only felt heightened by the feel of his own eye's drinking in the sight of herself and Dany just as hungrily as they were him.

Jaehaerys had managed to gain a light golden tan and his skin seemed to glisten like the rays of the sun itself were shining down upon them. His broader shoulders gave way to a firm muscular chest that now had gloriously chiseled abdominal muscles.

Rhaenys itched to run her hand's over the perfectly smooth planes of her brother's exposed skin.

Her less than pure inspection of him however came to an abrupt halt when she spied two distinctly angry-looking reddish areas on different sides of his lower abdomen.

He had been injured!

From the looks of it, it had to have happened fairly recently as the wounds only just barely appeared to have healed.

With narrowed eyes, she was unable to restrain herself any further when she marched straight towards him; tossing his fresh tunic to the side and poking him on the shoulder none-too-gently.

"Who told you that you could allow yourself to get injured? And in such a dangerous area? Do you have any idea how deadly lower belly wounds like that are?" Rhaenys demanded of him- Daenerys following right behind her.

Not waiting a moment for him to get a word in edgewise, Rhaenys carried on. Not giving him the opportunity to even greet them, let alone defend himself, she plowed right over anything he might have said as her fear and anger at the thought of him injured manifested itself. Something that had long been in the forefront of her mind since practically the day he left with their father.

"What were you thinking? Do you have any idea what would have happened to me...to both me and Dany...if anything had happened to you?"

Her temper was boiling.

"That's it. You're no longer allowed to go anywhere else without at least one of us in attendance to watch over you and make certain you do nothing to get yourself killed!"

She just kept staring at the angry and large jagged red marks on his otherwise perfect flesh.

"How dare you get hurt!" She yelled at him before throwing any anger out the proverbial window and immediately pulling him into her arms; holding on tightly to the one she loved more than anything else in the world desperately.

Rhaenys buried her face in the crook of his neck and was stunned as tears began to flow from her eye's unbidden; so great and so desperately had she missed her beloved brother.

Jaehaerys wasted no time in reciprocating his sister's embrace and immediately wrapped her into his strong arms. He pulled her even tighter to him as he pressed his nose into her silky black hair; inhaling her wonderfully fragrant scent that made everything feel right in the world and that he'd so dearly missed.

For her part, Rhaenys felt like the large hole in her heart...the missing piece that she'd barely begun to understand the significance of until it had gone away...all of it had returned and filled her with a contentment she'd never felt. Being held in her beloved brother's arms was the best feeling, and one that she did not think she'd ever get enough of. His warm flesh was calling out to her and all she wanted to do was melt into his embrace forever.

"I'm sorry. Seeing you injured...I don't like seeing such a sight." She whispered into his skin.

"Oh, Rhaenys. I've missed you so dearly, Sweet Sister. I'm right where I belong with you now." He whispered back just as quietly; tightening his hold on her infinitesimally.

They finally broke apart and she looked up into his nearly identical amethyst eye's and bestowed upon him a beaming smile as she felt Dany about to break if she was forced to control her own patience in greeting him any longer.

"Welcome home, Jae." She said warmly; holding his eye's firmly locked with her own.

His answering dimpled smile was beautiful to behold, and set her heart to racing even further as her magic once again sang gloriously thru her vein's.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter X.**

 **Author's Note-** _Thanks to those who reviewed. They get their first taste of true battle in this chapter._

 **Disclaimer:** I Own Nothing.

* * *

 ** _Haery's POV_**

* * *

Jaehaerys looked around the table; noticing the frowns marring his beautiful mother and grandmother's fine features.

Something was definitely not right, and he had a feeling it had something to do with the likely consequences of the actions of his father and himself in the East.

It was not to be entirely unexpected of course. They'd known their actions were likely to have far-reaching repercussions. They had however, hoped for more time. At least enough time for him and his father to bring the Unsullied, the freed slaves, and full might of the Targaryen Fleet back to their headquarters where they could be properly defended.

He had a feeling that for whatever reason, time was not on there side for the nonce.

Sitting on either side of him were his sister Rhaenys, and his aunt Daenerys.

He still found himself both amazed as well as decidedly disconcerted by the changes he'd noticed in them during his absence.

Of course being three name days older then him, Rhaenys had already been upon the cusp of womanhood well before he left, but now...Well, perhaps it was the fact of his own changes that had him noticing his beloved sister in such a manner.

As for Daenerys...words simply failed him. He did not think there were any words in his vocabulary that could adequately describe the vision before him.

He had to forcefully tear his mind away from such...distracting...thoughts.

Next to Dany sat his grandmother, the Dowager Queen Rhaella, with his uncle Viserys seated on her other side. Beside Rhaenys sat his mother Lyanna and Ser Arthur and Ser Gerold following. Twas a rather small gathering, but whatever the news brought before them turned out to be, he knew they were more than capable of handling near anything that may threaten them.

He looked once more at the grim countenance of his mother and grandmother before deciding it was time to face whatever was upon them.

"Alright, I can tell by the look on your faces that something has happened. You may as well tell us. We will deal with whatever it is accordingly." He said; addressing the table at large and his mother and lady grandmother in particular.

He did _not_ find himself reassured when the two women in question locked eyes once more and seemed to come to some sort of silent agreement. His mother nodded in the Queen's direction and subtly motioned for Rhaella to take charge of the meeting.

The Queen Dowager took a sip from her wine goblet before lightly clearing her throat and drawing the attention of all gathered upon her. Her expression changed from worried to a look of pleased affection as she gazed at her eldest grandson.

"To begin with, I will say that I am most happy for the return of my grandson and am ever so proud of all that your father and yourself have achieved, Jaehaerys. It is fortuitous that you returned when you did, as we have received some worrying reports from our friends across the Narrow Sea." The Queen began.

"I am most happy to finally be home, Grandmother. Our journey is far from over though as Father still has a great ways to travel with the freed men and the Unsullied. Now, what word does the Lord Spider bring to us?"

He was hoping things were not too far beyond their control.

The Queen Dowager sighed, and he had a feeling his hopes were soon to be dashed.

"Lord Varys wrote to warn us."

"The actions taken by your father and yourself in Slaver's Bay have not gone unnoticed. The news has travelled much quicker than would otherwise have reached the Seven Kingdoms for whatever reason. It has precipitated the Master of Whispers to reveal the truth of our existence to the Usurper and his allies well before we would have liked."

"Of course he would not have done so if he'd had any other option, but considering the fact that the news would have soon reached the Usurper's ear regardless of the actions of Lord Varys, we had long agreed it would be for the best if he was the one to divulge the truth to further cement his own position within the Robert's councils. By bringing the truth of all of our existences to light, no one will dare to question his loyalty to House Baratheon since it was the Spider himself who informed on his...'former employers'." The Queen told them.

It did not come as so great a shock as one might think.

They had all long known their days of enjoying the benefits of their anonymity were quickly drawing to a close, and that they would eventually come under the notice of the Usurper.

With so many of them being not only alive, but also rather active internationally, they were bound to be found out eventually.

They had all agreed that in order to further cement Varys' position on the Usurper's Small Council that he would be the one to disclose their identities when he thought they could no longer be otherwise concealed. Jaehaerys shuddered to think of how many spies Lord Varys had already been forced to eliminate to keep the secret of their existence as long as he had...far longer than they had any right to expect in truth.

It had been fourteen years since Rhaegar and Lyanna's 'demise' after all. It was frankly a minor miracle that they had not been revealed ages ago.

That being said, he was also well aware that the Usurper's wrath would know no limits with the man's extreme hate and malice for his family; especially once he learned the fate of his so-called ' _beloved_ ' Lyanna.

The fact that she never wanted anything to do with the drunken whoremonger, and was in fact happily married to his greatest enemy and had bore him four children, was likely to throw the vile man into an incalculable torrent of rage with all the fury his house was known for. They would now have to take especial care with their every action henceforth.

The game had changed, and now the stakes were much higher than they had ever been before.

"I see. What was the Usurper's reaction to that little...discovery?" He asked lightly; knowing full well his reaction would be have initially involved a tantrum of epic proportions.

The Queen Dowager smirked lightly at her grandson's purposefully understated inquiry.

"Apparently, his initial action was rather surprising. He merely sat there in stony silence as all was revealed to him. Of course, that quickly passed. It would seem that Jon Arryn had to prevent the man from killing Lord Varys right there and then. He said he actually managed to completely destroy the Small Council Chambers as he was apoplectic in his rage. He then began demanding immediate preparations to make war upon us. As it was slowly revealed to him that such an action would actually be a far more daunting affair than he would have ever conceived, he began to rant and rave about the causes of such: namely Lord Eddard and Prince Doran."

Even the Queen's voice held a touch of sympathy for Jon Arryn's plight in dealing with his former ward.

"I take it the Spider informed him he would have to first make war upon both Dorne and the North if he had any hope of being able to destroy us?" Rhaenys asked intuitively.

Rhaella smiled at her sharp-witted eldest grand-daughter.

"Indeed he did." The Queen confirmed.

"I gather it he did not take that very well?"

His tone was as dry as the sands of Dorne.

"Hardly."

He could tell that despite the seriousness of the situation, she was having to restrain her amusement at the Usurper's reaction.

"His immediate desire when he learned that his old foster-brother had to have _always_ known about and supported us was ride straight for Winterfell and kill Lord Stark immediately. Unfortunately for him, he was informed that such an act would be all but impossible as the North was now well and truly a veritable fortress. When his enraged mind then turned to the Dornish, his wroth was so great when informed that such an act would _also_ be nigh on impossible he actually collapsed with some sort of ailment. The Lord Spider was quite amused."

By her tone, it was readily evident that the Queen shared Varys' amusement.

"It seemed that the Usurper had worked himself into such a manic state that his far too overweight body had placed too much stress and rage upon his humors. He had to be carried out of the Small Council chambers to be attended by the Grand Maester and was insensate for a time." Rhaella explained with a delighted look upon her regal features.

He could not say he found an ounce of pity for the Usurper and his opinion seemed to shared greatly by all present.

"I don't suppose he did us all a favor and simply dropped dead, did he?" He asked hopefully despite knowing such a thing would have been far too easy and convenient.

It would however have been quite poetic.

It also appeared as if the reports they'd received about the Usurper's physical state in recent years held a large degree of truth in them.

It was said that the Usurper had let himself waste away to a mere shadow of his former immensely strong and healthy self, and was now so grossly overweight he could barely even sit a horse, let alone raise his war hammer in battle.

His father on the other hand, was nearly the complete opposite.

If possible, Rhaegar Targaryen had only gotten better with age. Through his countless hours of practice and his ever present zeal for learning of new styles of combat, his father had honed his skills to the point of perfection. He was now truly on an equal footing with legendary men such as Ser Arthur Dayne and Ser Barristan Selmy; both of whom were always very pleased to help their chosen king maintain and even excel in his training at arms. By the present time, he was without doubt one of the finest swordsmen in the whole of the world, and Jaehaerys could not be any prouder to be the son of such a man.

Even if the Usurper hadn't allowed himself to degenerate to his current state, he was certain they would most assuredly _not_ be having a repeat of their duel on the Trident were they ever to cross weapons again.

This time there was no question that it would be the Stag brought down low.

His mother grinned at him.

"You know that oaf has no manners. That would have been far too courteous of him. No, he unfortunately managed to rally in relatively short order, and is no doubt already whoring and drinking his way through more of the Crown's ever-increasing debt." Lyanna added lightly.

"More is the pity." Queen Rhaella agreed.

"Anyway, he has rallied and begun his attempts to bring about our end. It is said that Tywin Lannister raced to the capital when he received word from the Usurper of our existence. Lord Tywin was brought up to speed regarding the inadvisability of bringing war to either Dorne, the North, or even both, and then told of the likelihood of such a war turning into a full scale civil war that the Crown was certainly not in the best position to wage at the moment. Of course, Lord Tywin suggested an alternative." The Queen told them with a slight amount of trepidation.

She knew as well as they all did that fighting against the base cunning and near-beastial brutality that the Lord of Casterly Rock was capable of was an entirely different scenario than attempting to counter anything that oaf of an Usurper could possibly conspire.

He had a sinking suspicion of just what the Old Lion of the Rock might intend to try and bring against them. If it was as he thought, a potentially dangerous threat that would be far closer to home would be brought to bear against them.

They would persevere however, and soon all the world would be intimately reminded of just why their houses words were, _'Fire and Blood'_.

"He's made contact with the Three Daughter's, has he not?" He questioned.

Surprise momentarily colored his lady grandmother's features at just how intuitive and perceptive her eldest grandson could be.

"Indeed."

Rhaella looked at her grandson with an impressively-raised silver brow.

"The Spider only just barely managed to gather that particular bit of knowledge due to the fact that it was not disclosed to the Small Council at large. All of Essos had by now heard tale of Rhaegar's and your own actions in Slaver's Bay. Whilst it has done nothing but bolster our own strength and reputation with the Northern Essosi City-States, it has thrown the Three Daughter's into a veritable panic. They have found out about our alliance and its formation as a united new power. They are terrified that we shall pick them off one at a time. Especially due to the fact that they are hearing nothing but an ominous silence from Volantis. That has brought about an alliance between Tyrosh, Lys, and Myr that has not been seen in centuries. They mean to join power with the Lannister and likely the Redwyne Fleet's, and move to destroy us before we come at them." She explained.

He knew the second his grandmother's words confirmed his fears that if they had any chance of defeating their enemies and solidifying their position, they would have to act almost immediately. He would have to apparate to his father and inform him of the current dilemma. The fleet would have to make for Straits _immediately_.

That would force his father to basically herd the freed men and the Unsullied over the land routes back to their bases.

If the fleet could embark for the Stepstones _before_ the Lannister and Redwyne Fleet's managed to enter the Narrow Sea, they could hopefully block them indefinitely; rendering them all but obscelete.

Without the aid from Westeros, between their dragons and their fleet, they were strong enough to defeat even the combined forces of Tyrosh, Lys, and Myr.

That would be especially true as the Three Daughter's would be receiving no help from Volantis.

However, they would have to conquer them utterly.

If they could persuade their slaves to rise up, they would be in a much better position than being forced to bathe the three cities in dragonfire. That was something he had no desire to do, but would if they were forced.

"That was very clever of Lord Tywin. However, it shall not be enough."

"I will pop back over to Father, and inform him of what has happened. The best thing I can think of would be for him to bring the freed men and the Unsullied back over the land routes; giving him the time to pass through both Qohor and Norvos and finalize their allegiance. He'd still have Balaeria with him. If we ordered the Fleet to make for the Stepstones and took the islands for ourselves first, before they can access the Straits, we can prevent the bastards from entering the Narrow Sea altogether. Without the aid from the Lannister's and the Usurper, and between our dragons and our fleet, we are strong enough to defeat even the combined might of Tyrosh, Lys, and Myr."

It was the only solution his mind could conjure.

The Queen stared off into the distance no doubt weighing the pros and cons of such an aggressive move as the rest of those gathered did the same.

"That's a very bold move, Son. They'd not expect such a thing as Lord Varys has assured us they are unaware of our true might and that Lord Tywin does not even believe that the dragons are real. If we took the Stepstones for our own, we would be that much better positioned for when we land in Westeros." Lyanna complimented her eldest son with a look that was both impressed and immensely proud of her boy.

"I agree. They'd likely not be expecting such a move and would be caught unawares as they doubtlessly do not even believe us capable of marshalling the strength necessary for such a conquest. _Can_ we take and hold the Stepstones though? Do we have the strength to defeat the Three Daughter's? I can easily see how we could defeat them at sea, but actually capturing the cities...that would be quite a feat indeed."

The Queen was both curious and intrigued by the proposal if it was indeed feasible.

"Yes, I believe we can do all that and more. With the fleet coming, I'll make certain a fairly large portion of the Unsullied sail as well. The Golden Company will be needed to maintain our position with Pentos, Norvos, and Qohor and keep the Dothraki at bay. If the newly trained regiments came down to Myr and were met with some of the Unsullied, I believe we can force a capitulation. Our might at sea will deal with Tyrosh and Lys, and the threat of our dragons will cower them all. If they act against us after we hold the Stepstones, they will be given a choice: free any slave that wishes to be free and submit to Targaryen rule- or be annihilated at sea and have their proud cities bathed in flames until they are forced to submit. We cannot allow the appearance of weakness, but we can offer them more or less the same type of autonomy their Northern brethren have accepted." He proposed; outlining the only reasonable solution the best he could.

"I think Jaehaerys has the best plan with the greatest chance of success. It all hinges on the Stepstones though. Can we get the fleet there quick enough? How can we take the islands as fast as would be needed?" Rhaella asked the room at large.

Looking around the table and the faces of those gathered, he knew the fastest way to insure success would be the dragons and their riders.

Loathe as he was to ever bring her into any type of danger, he was not so stupid as to deny the truth that his beloved sister was one of the finest dragonriders and warrior queens the world would ever know. Rhaenys was blood of both Visenya and Nymeria reborn, especially when she put her mind on a goal.

"If I go back to Father in the morning, the necessary amount of men can be loaded onto the ships and ready to make for Bloodstone by the next day. What ships remain in defense in the waters of Kingsport and its environs would need to remain to insure Kingsport's security. We also must maintain our strength with the lands now sworn to us. Grandmother and Dany's dragons are enough to guarantee things here for the nonce. I would suggest that Viserys, Rhaenys, and myself fly to Bloodstone and meet the fleet en route. We can have the Unsullied and the Fleet ready to take _and hold_ the islands. The dragons can reign down hell on the Lannister Fleet and possibly the Redwyne if they are actually stupid enough to engage us. From there, we could also secure Dornish assistance in holding and garrisoning the isles and perhaps Visy could go ahead and become better acquainted with his betrothed, the Princess Arianne? After we hold the islands, we'll control the Straits. We can then bring fire and blood to the Three Daughter's and insure they are brought into the new Kingdom starting by converging on Myr from all sides." He said; finishing his explanation of how to keep one step ahead of the Usurper and his minions.

If they were successful, they'd have the foundations of an empire in the works.

Rhaegar and Lyanna would be the first High King and High Queen of the new Valyrian-inspired Targaryen Empire.

He noticed the wide eyes of all those around him as they absorbed his words. He also noted the blush now burning on Viserys' cheeks likely due to his mentioning of him becoming 'acquainted' with Princess Arianne Martell of Dorne with a great amount of amusement.

His young uncle was normally so laid back and generally unconcerned with life's details that the thought of soon being near his betrothed had clearly frazzled the Prince. He could tell by their looks that his grandmother, mother, Rhaenys, and Dany also found Viserys' embarrassment highly entertaining.

"You and Rhaenys are still so young to be attempting such a fight already! Perhaps it would be better to wait until your Father can arrive? If anything happened to any of you..." Lyanna trailed off; thoroughly disconcerted with the thought of her eldest son and daughter being in such close proximity of Lannister forces.

"Mother, you've seen all of our practices. You've also witnessed many of the tests we've run to see just what could harm our dragons whilst they are airborne. I don't mean to sound too confident, but the truth is that fully-grown and mounted dragons such as ours are nigh on invincible...at sea especially. I know full well how easily a lucky sword strike can hit us in close quarters, but none of us will be close to the enemy in these maneuvers. There is very little that could actually manage to harm us. We _will_ be safe."

"We knew this day would come; and now the moment has finally arrived. No longer will we hide in the shadows. It is time for us to show the world just what the might of the dragons and all of House Targaryen are capable of. We must strike hard, and we must strike fast. Let the world tremble and know what it means to challenge the might of the Dragon. Our destiny stands before us. We shall meet it head on." He proclaimed while also attempting to reassure his mother that they'd be as safe as anyone possibly could be during war.

The might of the dragon had made the whole world tremble and bow before it once upon a time.

It would soon do so again.

Viserys and Rhaenys locked eyes and he saw them nod to one another in unison.

"Lya, we'll be fine. Jae's right. This is our time now. This is what we are meant to do. The Lannister's will regret the day they tried to make us bow low." Rhaenys stated fiercely as she took his right hand in her own.

To him, it felt like the most natural act in the world. Only it was even more complete when he felt Dany's smaller hand slip in to the hand on his unoccupied left.

Rhaella and Lyanna looked at them, and then locked eyes with each other, and he could see they would support his suggested course of action.

"I want each of you to _swear_ to me that you will not only do all in your power to keep yourselves from harm, but that you'll also keep a close eye on each other too." The Queen told them all sternly.

She was met with a chorus of mixed responses.

"Yes Mother/Grandmother. We swear it."

"Alright. I believe we have the best possible plan. Jaehaerys, inform your father in the morning of what has happened and come straight back here. I want all of you; especially you, Rhaenys, and Viserys- to practice as much as you possibly can until it is time for you to join up with the fleet." Rhaella told them.

He agreed immediately.

"Yes, Ma'am. I can think of several strategies the three of us can practice in preparation for the Stepstones." He replied.

"Now, can any of you think of anything else concerning the Three Daughter's that we can make use of for our benefit and the stability of the new realm?" Lyanna inquired.

This time it was Daenerys who responded first.

"The slaves, Lya." Dany said.

"What of them? There are a great many; especially in Tyrosh and Lys. I believe the ratio is about three to one in favor of slaves versus freeborn." Lyanna said.

"We can offer any of them that wish to sign up for it the chance to join in forming new regiments. We'll need as many men as we can get, and of course we'd need to train them as fast and as thoroughly as possible. If we manage to pull all of this off, especially with both the North and Dorne having been forced to reveal their true loyalty...We'll most likely have two years in the best case scenario before we will be forced into real war with the Usurper- and that's likely being too generous an estimate knowing Lord Tywin. Cousin Stannis likely won't even be able to maintain his cover for too long. Not with what we know he'll assuredly be asked to do soon enough. They'll know the truth as soon as the Usurper ordered him to set sail against us, and he is forced to reveal himself." She explained.

He nodded his head in silent agreement with her.

There would most likely be a very great many former slaves that would sign up to join their newly-forming regiments. Many would not have a place in the cities any longer that they came from, and they could offer them and their families a new start. She was also correct about Lord Baratheon.

"Dany's right. We could add many men to the training from the Three Daughter's. Many of them will likely not have homes remaining in those cities anyway. We can offer them a fresh start and freedom." Rhaenys agreed.

"Quite a few of them could be offered a new start to settle on the Stepstones soon. We'll want to have those isles in particular as heavily populated with as many loyal men and women as we can manage. They'll essentially be our guardians for the Narrow Sea." Viserys added thoughtfully.

"Visy is definitely right about the isles." Jaehaerys agreed.

"I'll make sure the others know and begin to make plans accordingly." Lyanna confirmed to them all.

He knew his mother was at least relieved to _finally_ be able to move about more in public now that the Usurper was aware she lived. It was almost worth him knowing just because of how confined he knew she sometimes felt with being forced to hide and disguise her rather well-known features.

"You're also right about Stannis. He'll either have to blockade the Blackwater, or possibly leave a garrison on Dragonstone and retreat to the Stormlands. The problem with that will be Renly Baratheon. He's still the Lord of Storm's End. I doubt that he'll ever back us with how close he is with that treacherous Lord Mace, and he has his own aspirations." Queen Rhaella said.

Luckily, although Renly Baratheon was indeed popular amongst his people, Cousin Stannis was also well liked by the martial-minded Stormlords. Stannis was well liked with the commons for his dedication to duty and fairness. It was more so than he likely would have been had they not helped to arrange an appropriate bride for the rightful Lord of Storm's End. When the Queen heard he was to be pledged to Sylese Florent in order to improve relations with the Reach, she'd acted quickly. A more agreeable match was made with the Lady Daena Celtigar- only daughter of Lord Adrian Celtigar and Vaelaena Velaryon. The Usurper was wroth with his brother for disobeying him, but oddly enough, it had been the only time the Usurper had said Stannis had actually resembled his brother in any way with that singular act of defiance.

The marriage was a godsend for Stannis, and the Lady Daena brought him three healthy children into the world; including two sons and a daughter. Eventually, their ties to House Baratheon would once again be re-solidified through the bonds of blood. Stannis' eldest son Steffon had been betrothed to his little sister, the Princess Valaerie.

He thought about the problem of Renly Baratheon momentarily. The Stormlands were Baratheon territory; no doubt about that. However, that still did _not_ mean Renly was their rightful ruler. He was the _youngest_ of Steffon Baratheon's children. They _would_ reinstate Lord Stannis.

If only the man would see them the way his next-to-eldest brother saw them?

But...what if he could change that? He'd definitely have to consider that, and the lengths he'd need to go to in order to make it a reality at a later date.

Some of the lords, such as Lords Cafferen, Fell, and Grandison were already loyal to the Dragons due to their shared history when they owed fealty to Summerhall.

It would not be the first time he had forced the will of another to alter so very drastically.

Yes, he could do it again if he must.

They'd need to begin to make certain their contacts in the Stormlands were becoming more active in order to soften the Stormlords more to their cause.

When he had that completed, they'd be that much closer to their goal. Soon enough, they would be in position to retake their home. Soon enough, the small-folk and nobility alike of Westeros would become aware that their beloved Silver Prince yet lived. Soon, the day of victory would be upon them, and their new High King Rhaegar would mount the Iron Throne.

* * *

He awoke the next morning to...difficulties. No matter how hard he tried, he was unable to force his mind onto other thoughts...other faces.

Seeing them again for the first time in so very long had done nothing to alleviate the problem. If anything, it had made it far worse. There was no denying of the facts now. He desired his half-sister and young aunt. They were never far from his thoughts, nor from his heart.

The part of him that had been Harry Potter balked at such, but the literal dragons blood within him from the bonding over-rode all other though and need. No matter how hard he tried, he quite literally could _not_ think otherwise.

As he forced his mind onto the tasks of the day, he did all in his power to banish such thoughts from his mind.

It only worked half-heartedly...at best.

In barely no time at all, he had dressed and gathered all the documents that needed his father's attention.

There was much to accomplish today, and he knew he could not afford to tarry on his musings any longer. He concentrated hard on where exactly he needed to be, and with a loud crack; apparated half-way across Essos to stand just outside the tent of his father.

Ser Barristan looked up shocked at his abrupt...and unusual (to say the least) appearance.

He quickly recognized the Crown Prince and allowed his sword arm to relax and fall back to his side.

"My Prince! We did not expect you to find your way back to us so soon. Is all well in Kingsport?" The kindly old Kingsguard asked anxiously.

He gave the legendary knight an easy smile that served to put the Bold more at his ease.

"Indeed, Ser Barristan. All is well in Kingsport. The family are all in fine form. I bring news that my father must needs know of and make plans for accordingly." He told the living legend.

"I'm up now, Ser Barristan." He heard his father's voice say from inside his tent.

Ser Barristan opened the tent flap wide for him to enter Rhaegar's temporary abode. The Kingsguard followed closely behind as he walked forwards.

His father was just finishing buttoning his black tunic when he came in. He smiled to see his son again so soon.

Walking forward, he gave his father a quick hug in greeting that was swiftly returned. He had always felt so lucky that his parents had never been shy in showing their complete love and affection to their children. To a boy with a past such as his, it meant a great deal and he was always happy to reciprocate the affection and care shown to him.

"Welcome back, My Son. I know you did not come all this way merely because you missed your old fathers company so soon. What news do you bring?" His father asked him; getting straight to the point with a somewhat anxious expression on his face.

"Sit, Son. Sit." Rhaegar beckoned of his heir.

Both of them sat down, and Rhaegar waved at his squire to bring them another plate for his son to break his fast; knowing he likely left the palace as quick as the sun had risen.

Once they were seated and comfortable, he ordered his thoughts on the best way to inform his father of the latest developments.

"What's wrong?" Rhaegar asked; getting to the heart of the matter.

"Well, it appears that our exploits in Slaver's Bay travelled far faster than we foresaw. The Usurper is now fully aware of our existence and has been made aware of most of what we have accomplished here in the East." He informed him without preamble.

He knew they had little time to counteract whatever the Usurper had set in motion. However, they would do their utmost to fight him as fiercely as they were able.

At hearing his words, his fathers shoulders slumped a bit and a resigned look appeared on his face.

"So it begins." His father said softly, almost as if to himself.

Rhaegar looked off into the distance with a far-away look in his amethyst eye's.

"Damnation!" Rhaegar exclaimed.

He then went on to explain the entire situation to his father, as well as what they'd all thought to be the best plan to counter the Usurper's forces.

"I do not like the idea of any of you being involved in such things as you are all still so young, but I know you are more than capable, My Son. The plan itself if brilliant. Not that I'm overly surprised. I'm sure it came from your mind after all..." Rhaegar said before trailing off lost in thought.

His father sighed and looked him straight in they eye.

"You have my blessing to take the Fleet and seven thousand of the Unsullied forces, and take the Stepstones for our family. I suppose now is as good a time as any for Viserys to wed Arianne Martell. The Dornish could help to garrison the islands in order to free up more of our own men to be used against the Three Daughter's. As soon as the isles are secure and you have dealt with the Lannister and Redwyne Fleet's, you have my permission to deal with the Three Daughter's in whatever manner you see fit. If it is at all possible, do attempt to minimize the use of the dragons though, as you know the level of devastation they are capable of unleashing as well as I do. I will try and move the convoy along the land routes as quickly as possible." His father told him.

Rhaegar sighed before holding his son's gaze.

"I want you to promise me that no matter what happens, you will do your absolute best to keep yourself and our family as safe as humanly possible. I do not wish to hear of any overt heroics that could endanger your life, My Son." He implored him in an iron tone of deadly seriousness.

All was silent momentarily before he answered as best as he could.

"I swear that I will be as safe as I possibly can be, and that I would only risk myself if a member of our family was in danger. I will _always_ protect them before myself, but I see no reason one should be mutually exclusive of the other." He replied; swearing as much as he was able and no more.

He would _never_ allow any harm to befall their family if he was _at all_ able to prevent it, and his father well knew that.

His father sighed lightly.

"I suppose that's the best I can hope for." Rhaegar agreed with a slight smile.

He could never express just how proud his boy made him. His love and devotion to their family was both inspiring and humbling that it was from him and his beloved Lya that such an unique and special boy had come from.

He nodded his head in agreement as the two silver-haired men stood to leave the tent and issue their new commands. He saw his father pause momentarily as it appeared a new thought had crossed his mind- a thought that had been wearing on his _last nerve_ for days now in fact, and he now had the perfect opportunity to rid himself of the overly-friendly pest.

"You know what...why don't you take Aegon with you. He may not be the best dragonrider amongst us, but he can hold his own. As many places as you are going to need riders to be, every last one counts a great deal. The addition of another mounted dragon could make all the difference in the world if you find yourself in a tight spot of trouble. Besides, he's more loyal to you than he is to anyone else anyway; including me." His father said nonchalantly; though he could quite easily hear the undisguised hope that he would indeed remove his friend from his poor father's service.

That had surprised him.

As he thought about it, he realized his father was correct.

They would need every dragon and rider available. He would admit to also wishing that his friend was by his side for his first taste of real independent battle as well. Outside of his immediate family there was no one he trusted more to have his back. He also knew that was most certainly _not_ his father's true reason for suggesting such a thing, and was unable to prevent the amused smirk that briefly flit across his face.

He knew well how much his friends hyper and inquisitive nature got on his father's nerves quite easily.

"Are you sure you do not wish him to remain here with you, Father? You know, you may need the company, and Egg's always just so _happy_ to help." He asked his father with a smile that was far too sweet for Rhaegar's liking.

Rhaegar grimaced a bit as he thought of that boys near- _incessantly_ chipper countenance.

He would count it a blessing from the gods themselves to not be forced to endure that boys company for the thousands of miles through the Essosi countryside the landward journey would take them if he could possibly pawn him off on his son.

Besides, this way his son was at least guaranteed to see his best male friend alive once again as opposed to the distinct possibility of Aegon Brightflame _not_ making it out of the Dothraki Sea still breathing if he kept working on Rhaegar's nerves.

"Yes, I'm sure. I think I'll survive the separation." He told his son dryly.

He chuckled at his father's caustic reply.

"Well, if you're sure." He told him as they left the tent and went in search of the Lord Admiral of the Fleet.

They had a war to plan and a crown to win.

* * *

A little over two moons later saw him, Rhaenys, and Viserys flying their dragons over the archipelago that comprised the Stepstones. As he soared through the skies atop Syrax, he saw no sign that any of the Lannister or Redwyne fleet's had travelled thru the Straits recently.

Normally at least a few of the ships of a passing fleet would have been taken by the pirates that inhabited the Stepstones, and could be spotted fairly easily. Seeing none, he concluded that they had indeed beaten the Usurper's allies to their goal.

As they had planned, if it looked like they had reached their goal in time, they began to descend closer to the harbors to burn the pirates ships and their crude shanty villages while the Fleet began to encircle all of the isles.

Their first target was the largest and best fortified of the Isles, Bloodstone.

Set into the side of the rocky mountainous terrain was the large castle built by his ancestor Prince Daemon Targaryen during his reign as the King of the Stepstones and the Narrow Sea.

While he could tell that the keep had endured many a siege and battle, and that it had not been all that well maintained due to the many hands it had passed through over the years, it also looked to be preserved in remarkably good condition under the circumstances. To his knowledge, it was one of the very last keeps built in the style of Old Valyria and forged with a large amount of sorcery and dragonfire.

He had never felt this type of rush in his life as they flew around their targets.

This _far_ surpassed anything he had ever before experienced in either life.

It was like he was finally doing what he had been born to do.

If this is what it always felt like to ride a dragon in conquest, he could well understand his ancestors fondness for such pursuits.

He looked over and locked eyes with Rhaenys who was sitting atop her dragon Sunfyre.

He could easily tell, even without their bond, that his sister was just as exhilarated and hungry for battle as he was. They looked over to their uncle to see Viserys had already begun his task of reigning down dragonfire upon the upper levels of the Dragonfort as the keep was called.

He and Rhaenys nodded in unison as they both urged their dragons into a steep dive towards the harbor of Torturer's Deep.

His adrenaline was racing through his veins as he watched the pirate scum below begin to scatter like the rats they were; terrified of the supposedly extinct dragons that were suddenly bearing down upon them.

As they approached closer to their targets, he saw a few of the braver scum notching back arrows from their bows, and firing them in desperate abandon at the approaching dragons. As Rhaenys was closer, the arrows reached her first. Although none came close to hitting her, a few did manage to land shots upon her dragon. He smiled when they saw that- much to their horror, the arrows had absolutely no effect whatsoever on the hard scales and merely bounced off the dragon harmlessly.

" _Dracarys_!" He yelled out to Syrax in High Valyrian as the pirates fleet of ships docked in the port came within range.

He felt the pleasant sensation of heat from the dragons flame as he spewed great torrents of dragonfire down upon the hapless vessels. As the fires began to consume the sails and rigging, it then spread to engulf the entirety of the ships with flame.

He channeled his magic to manifest into swirling vortexes of wind; creating a firestorm across the bay at speeds faster than should have been possible. The pirate fleet of ships were being consumed utterly in the conflagration.

Sweat was coating his brow as he pushed his magic harder; urging the storm of fire onto the shore where crude villages had been haphazardly thrown together over the years.

So dry and poorly made were the constructs, that all it took was but a spark, and the shanties were lit up in spectacular bouts of flame.

He continued to pour out his magic into the raging storm and watched in awe as all the remnants of the pirates ill-gotten gains were dissolved into ash and nothingness by his flames.

His magically-enhanced firestorm reminded him of Fiendfyre more than anything else ever had with the inferno becoming a roaring crescendo of unyielding flame and strength. It appeared the only thing missing were the flaming magical creatures the dark spell was so well known for.

Knowing he needed to conserve his magical reserves for any of the remaining isles that refused to surrender peacefully (after the destruction wrought upon Bloodstone, they planned to give the other islands the chance to vacate the isles peaceably, or be burned out like their comrades in Torturer's Deep), he stopped the seemingly unending flow of magic.

" _Sovegon_!" He called out to Syrax.

The dragon rose back up into the skies upon his command as he looked over to see Rhaenys and Sunfyre doing the same.

Looking at Rhaenys in that moment was almost akin to looking upon the sun itself, so bright did her eyes look in that instant. He had never seen his sister look more beautiful than she had in that moment.

There may have been fire and blood, and death and destruction all round them, but Rhaenys looked like a conquering warrior queen and Valyrian goddess to him.

Her black hair was flowing in the wind, and her violet eyes were alight with passion as exhilaration shined from her exquisite and beautifully crafted face for all the world to behold her glory.

Her more than ample chest was heaving against her corseted golden breast-plate, and her tanned and muscular thighs gripped Sunfyre as they soared through the air...he did not know if he'd ever seen anything quite so beautiful in that moment.

He saw Rhaenys looking towards him, and noticed an unconcealed emotion in her eyes that gave him hope that she felt the same.

They would have to think on such thoughts later.

For the moment they had a castle to take.

Looking down, he saw Viserys and his dragon Vermithor had already taken the main gates to the keep.

The way was now open, and a combination of marines and Unsullied from the ships now in harbor were pouring into the keep.

He and Rhaenys nodded at one another as they directed their dragons downwards to join their uncle.

Jumping out of the saddle, he ran to Rhaenys' side. He was happy she had endured their first taste of battle on dragonback with fierceness and determination, and had come out none the worse for wear.

"You okay?" He asked her as he held her close.

She seemed to be in no way opposed to such contact, and indeed was holding on to him just as tightly.

"I'm fine, Jae. Nothing even came close to harming us. Now, what do you say we go lend a hand to Visy?" Rhaenys asked him.

He smiled, and readied himself for another bout of combat.

"Certainly, Sweet Sister." He replied.

Just as they were crossing the threshold of the partly-melted gate, he saw an officer in the Lord Admiral's command swiftly approaching the pair of them.

"My Prince, My Princess, I bring word from the Lord Admiral Velaryon. He said to inform Your Grace's at once that a fleet has been spotted perhaps a few hours out to sea."

He thought the young cadet to be a junior member of House Celtigar.

Rhaenys was immediately on the alert. Likely worried the same as he was that it would be the approaching Lannister or Redwyne Fleet. Considering the fact that they did not even completely hold Bloodstone itself, let alone the other isles, it was far too soon for them to mount a successful offense or defense.

"What banners were seen?" His sister asked quickly; worrying her plump lower lip with her teeth and distracting him yet again.

Unexpectedly however, the young officer smiled.

"The sun and spear of House Martell, My Princess. We also noted the personal sigil of Your Grace's uncle, the Prince Oberyn. The Lord Admiral estimates the Dornish Fleet to arrive by nightfall, Your Grace's."

Jaehaerys was immensely relieved as they were obviously not in a position to deal effectively with the Lannister or Redwyne Fleet's quite yet.

Rhaenys too let out a sigh of relief at the news.

"Wonderful, thank you for informing us, Lieutenant." She said smiling at the now blushing young officer.

He almost felt like growling at the mans pleased puppy expression from earning a smile from Rhaenys.

"That will be all, Lieutenant." He all but barked at the other boy.

"Yes, My Prince. Th...Thank you, My Prince." The young officer hurriedly exclaimed; suddenly very eager to leave the Young Dragon's presence.

His sister raised an amused eyebrow at his rather blatant display of jealousy before her look turned mischievous.

She stalked closer to him like a panther stalking its prey. Leaning close whilst fully displaying her ample cleavage to him she whispered in his ear.

"There's no need for jealousy, My...Dear...Sweet...Jaehaerys. You need only take it, and all you desire shall be yours." She whispered in a sultry voice before marching straight into the on-going battle within the keep, and leaving him standing there utterly dumbfounded with his mouth agape and his blood all but roaring in his ears from her heated words and the look that accompanied them.

His mouth snapped shut with an audible click when he finally removed his eyes from her form in the distance, and noticed Ser Arthur's smirking visage.

"Don't even think about it, Ser." He growled as his mentor and friend was barely containing his laughter.

That was all it took and the legendary knight of the Kingsguard broke into full blown chuckles of amusement at Jaehaerys' still-red face.

He shook his head distractedly and charged into the keep; muttering all the while with his sword out and at the ready.

He was anxious to unleash some now pent-up aggression on his enemies...or maybe his Kingsguard if he kept on laughing at his predicament like that.

They had taken Bloodstone with very little losses. Their dragons took out most of the opposition they would have otherwise been forced to defeat in combat. Viserys had led the first wave of the invasion force with admirable skill, and Haery felt proud of his uncle as this was his first taste of battle of any kind.

It was not long after they had finished scouring every inch of the Dragonfort in search of any of the remaining pirates that might have been hidden away that Prince Oberyn arrived with the Dornish contingent of men sent by Prince Doran.

With him he brought two of the elder Sand Snakes: Obara and Nymeria Sand.

"Uncle!" Rhaenys exclaimed; happy to see her mother's brother again and so close to the time of retaking their home.

Prince Oberyn had pulled her into a hug before releasing her and holding her at arms length; examining her from head to toe.

"Little Princess, you are even more beautiful than I had thought possible! Let me look at you. A true warrior queen! Your mother would be so proud to see you now, Sweetling." The Prince told his niece with a smile as Obara and Nymeria came over to greet their younger cousin.

"And look at you! This cannot be Jaehaerys! This is a man grown, and far too good looking to be that boy!" Oberyn exclaimed in faux confusion.

He smiled and came over to give the Dornish Prince a hug.

"Hello, Nuncle! You have no idea how happy I am to see you! We had thought for sure we were about to have to face the Usurper's fleet unprepared." He told him.

* * *

"We could not have had that of course! No, I made certain we arrived well before the Lion's and the Rose's ships. By the gods! You've shot up like a weed, Boy! You must be as tall as your father by now!" Oberyn said as he looked his almost-nephew over.

Of all the children of his good-brother and Lyanna, it was Jaehaerys that he was closest to and liked the most. Oberyn had not been sure how he was supposed to feel about everything once he was finally informed of the truth of events. He had nothing against Lyanna Stark of course as he had been well aware that the main reason his good-brother had even taken a second wife at all was to insure the safety of Elia from the Mad King. Not that it had mattered in the end due to those bastard Lannister's and the Usurper.

Still, he had not been certain what he would feel.

However, he'd never forget the first time he saw his beloved niece again after the Rebellion. She was the last piece of his sweet sister left in the world.

He had hoped that dear Rhaenys would not be pushed aside or not feel as beloved as her father's new wife and children.

His worries had been for naught though when he saw her.

He had quickly come to respect Lyanna Stark, as she loved his niece as fiercely as she did any child from her own womb, and never made any distinction between them. Rhaenys was loved and cherished by her family and he had long noticed the bonds she held with her little brother as soon as he saw them.

Jaehaerys was closer to Rhaenys than he was to any of his other siblings, and the combination of Rhaenys, Jaehaerys, and Daenerys was a beautiful relationship to behold.

In time, he had come to care for the young prince like his own blood. He was an amazing young man. Seeing the two of them, Oberyn knew they'd never allow anything to part them.

* * *

He saw the amused twinkle in the eyes of both his sister and Prince Oberyn when Nymeria Sand began to circle him almost like a cat stalking its prey.

He used to be terrified of the Sand Snakes as they had to be the biggest flirts he had ever met in his life...by a _long_ shot.

"Hello, My Prince." Nymeria purred next to his ear as she circled him; eyeing him up and down like he was a particularly succulent choice of meat.

"My...my...my. You sure have...grown up rather nicely, My Prince." She whispered in his other ear.

Her hot breath washed over the shell of his ear and he let out an involuntary squeak when he felt Nymeria squeeze his ass on her next pass around him, much to his mortification.

"Hello, Lady Nym." He replied.

If his voice was a bit higher pitched than normal...well, who could really blame him!

He was unable to quite control his blush. He never had been where Prince Oberyn's daughters were concerned.

He knew he had to be nearly red as a tomato by that point.

He turned his pleading eyes towards his sister in the desperate hope for her to rescue him.

Rhaenys winked at him as she came up beside him.

"Careful Cousin. That's a good way to lose a hand." Rhaenys said nonchalantly referring to the offending appendage that had dared to touch what she by now firmly considered her property.

Nymeria pouted cutely.

"Ah, come on now, Coz. Sharing is caring, remember?" She retorted.

Lady Nym pouted again before she sighed deeply in resignation.

"Oh, alright." Nymeria said.

"Such a waste of a fine piece of beautiful male flesh though." She muttered quietly.

Oberyn was merely sniggering at the whole scene all the while, and thoroughly enjoying his uncomfortable predicament...the bastard.

"Come on. Let us meet up with Visy and coordinate how we are to complete our task." He told them all.

He was dearly ready to escape such close quarters with the Sand Snakes and his sister.

They were too dangerous by far.

He shuddered to think of the thought of them ever joining forces together.

He did not think he'd be able to survive such an unholy alliance.

No, he'd not stand a chance.

Within two days time, they had completely subdued and taken every single island that made up the Stepstones. They had all mostly remained within the Dragonfort during that time; planning their assault on the Lannister and the Redwyne Fleet's that they knew would soon be arriving. Viserys, Rhaenys, and himself had been obliged to fly to three of the hold-out islands that had refused to surrender even after learning of the fate of the pirate garrison on Bloodstone.

Considering the comparably small number of men that were holding the few remaining pirate isles, it had hardly been much of a challenge for any of them, but it did at least give them more practice for when other events would certainly prove far more of a challenge.

Also, amongst the discussion was the upcoming wedding of Viserys to Princess Arianne of Dorne.

Seeing how Dorne and the North had already been forced to reveal themselves to the Usurper, Prince Doran was eager to re-solidify the ties between Targaryen and Martell.

He had been ever so grateful when Nymeria decided to make it her new mission in life to corrupt Viserys as much as humanly possible before his arrival in Dorne, much to the amusement of the rest of them.

Eventually, it was decided that after the fight they knew would soon be on the horizon between themselves and Myr (which would solidify their strength over the Three Daughter's), and the need to have as many of their dragons to be always at the ready as possible had slowed some, Viserys would then be able to travel to Sunspear to wed the Heiress of Dorne.

They estimated that it would likely be two to three moons away.

While awaiting the arrival of the Usurper's allies, they had been making good use of their time in order to bring about stability and order to the isles of the Stepstones.

Bloodstone itself was to be gifted to Viserys as his personal seat. The larger islands each had keeps already standing on them that were decent enough and could be improved upon easily.

It was decided to gift them to loyal men whom Viserys thought he could work well enough with as he would be the new Lord Paramount of the Stepstones.

Each of those men would be responsible for the construction of new towns and harbors upon the isles that were to be populated mostly by the freed slaves who would be especially chosen for their skill and ability.

Essentially, the isles of the Stepstones were to become one very large naval bastion of the Targaryen Empire in the Narrow Sea.

Any ships that wished to travel in or out of the Narrow Sea would need their approval.

None of the Usurper's ships would be able to pass.

All trade to Westeros (with the exception of the North and Dorne and possibly the Vale) would be halted until further notice.

In all likelihood, that action alone would cripple their already fragile economy.

* * *

They had been in the middle of a planning meeting when Aurane Waters came running into the room; breathless and panting from exertion.

"Word from the Lord Admiral, Your Grace's." Aurane managed to get out after he took a deep breath to regain the ability for coherent speech.

Wordlessly, Jaehaerys took the small piece of parchment he saw bearing the arms of the Seahorse of Velaryon.

He read the note aloud for the benefit of those at the table.

To His Grace the Crown Prince Jaehaerys,

One hour before writing this missive, one of the corsair ships that were being used to keep a lookout for the fleet of the Usurper spotted the sails of the ships bearing the banners of the Houses Lannister and Redwyne several leagues out at sea to the south. They reported that the fleets looked to be separating into two opposing directions. It appeared as if the Lannister Fleet will approach the Island of Bloodstone from the west, while the Redwyne Fleet will approach from the east in an apparent effort to bottle up the main portion of our own fleet they believe to be anchored at Torturer's Deep.

If it is still Your Grace's will that we remain out of range of the enemy vessels whilst Your Grace unleashes the dragons upon them first, than I would estimate Your Grace would have approximately three hours hence from the time you receive this note to get into position.

As planned, whilst Your Grace's dragons set upon the Usurper's fleet, the ships under my command will begin to encircle our enemies from without. As they appear to be dividing their strength for a two-pronged attack upon Bloodstone, I shall ensure our own ships are placed accordingly.

Ever Your Grace's Loyal Servant,

Grand Admiral Lucerys Velaryon of the Driftmark

"It is time then." Rhaenys said calmly.

"Yes. Yes, it is. Now, we have already discussed the possibility of an attack from two sides. As it is happening that way, do you all still agree with dividing the strength of our dragons?" He asked just to be certain.

Rhaenys and Viserys looked at one another and nodded together.

They were in agreement then.

"Yes, Brother. I believe we can handle it." Rhaenys told him.

He looked to Aurane then.

"Do you still believe you can do this, Aurane?" He asked slightly older boy who had been chosen as his liege man and acted as an advisor to him as a favor to his father, the Lord Admiral a couple of years ago.

In the time since, Aurane had become extremely devoted to him and Haery had come to look upon the boy as a close friend and confidant. He had every intention of raising him up to the status of a high lord in the future as he had long since proven his devotion to the Royal Family and to the Crown Prince especially.

He did not hesitate.

"Absolutely. I'm obviously not as experienced, but as my ancestor was Queen Rhaenyra's man, so too shall I be yours. I am always yours to command, Your Grace. Syrax has taken to me well enough to allow me to ride. Besides, this will free Your Grace from having to use Syrax yourself. Your Grace's... _other form_...is much more intimidating than any of the other dragons at present. The sight of that alone will instill enough fear into the Usurper's men that many may try and flee on sighting you." Aurane said with an amused smirk.

He was silent for a moment before replying.

"So be it then." He said.

He noticed that both Rhaenys and Prince Oberyn seemed rather amused by Aurane's not-so-veiled... _devotion_...to him. Aurane had always reminded him of a somewhat less scrupulous version of Egg.

The Usurper was about to get his first taste of Fire and Blood.

He doubted after this encounter that any in the Usurper's councils would be able to deny their dragons existence.

'Good.' He thought.

'Let the Whoremonger King fear the wrath of the Dragon. Let him remember the true meaning of Fire and Blood, in intimate detail. Let us show them all just how hot the flames of Old Valyria burn.'

"Uncle, were your men able to finish up with the amount needed of the... _special_...project you wished to use?" He asked Oberyn.

His answering grin full of devious mischief was all he needed to know the answer to that particular question.

"Aye, Your Grace. They finished that and much more. Between the dragons, and my little...trick...there will be nothing left of the traitors." Prince Oberyn replied confidently.

He nodded his head sharply and prayed they were not being too over-confident.

Truthfully, he did not really like what he was about to do at all, but he knew it had to be done.

Regardless of whom they fought for, he still considered them to be _his_ people, and did not wish to shed their blood with impunity.

He had no real choice though.

The Tyrell's had chosen the wrong side, and Tywin Lannister would never allow his men to yield.

He was under no delusions that Old Lion's men might be brought to heel today.

No, not today.

However, there would come a time when he could see them throwing off their Lannister chains.

They were too terrified of their overlord to do anything but fight to their end at present.

It was true that the ' _Rains_ ' cowed nearly all into submission...but for how much longer would that hold when the world learned there were worse monsters to fear than Lord Tywin?

How much longer would those whom had lived with the Lord Tywin's boot on their neck remain in subjugation when the might of the dragons came calling?

Would they all allow themselves to be burned, or would some of those whom the Lannister's had terrorized _finally_ find the courage to fight back?

They could only wait and see, but he had hope yet.

"Good, very good. Now, are we all ready? This is to be essentially our first real contact with the enemy. This will be the first salvo to be shot at those who would see us bowing low. This is the day we begin the fight to take back our homes." He said; standing from his chair.

"Are we ready?" He asked those gathered.

"We are, Brother. Let us serve them Fire and Blood." Rhaenys answered.

He nodded his head.

"Fire and Blood." Viserys agreed; standing as well.

"Come." He commanded.

They all left with him to prepare for the upcoming battle.

As he was being helped into his armor by Aurane, he sent a silent prayer to the Old gods of his mother that all those he cared for made it out of the up-coming battle unscathed. A dragon was a mighty defense, but as Aegon and Visenya's sister-wife, Queen Rhaenys proved...they were _not_ invincible.

* * *

If there was any part of the animagus transformation that Jaehaerys found more helpful than others, it was the fact that no matter what one was wearing when one transformed, it made no difference in the end. Even though he was fully armored nearly from head to toe, in his dragon-form, it mattered not. Since it was not presently visible or felt, the bulky armor was no hindrance to his forms flight whatsoever.

Looking out over the massive armada of ships that were arrayed against them, he thought that to be a very convenient fact

He loved magic.

That at least was one thing that stayed remarkably the same no matter where...or _who_...he was.

The one truth the Dark Lord had been right about was the fact magic _was_ might.

He would _always_ love magic.

The large mass of ships that was bearing ever closer to Bloodstone and the position of their own fleet was truly impressive.

From what he could tell, it appeared that the Lannister Fleet (along with some few additions from the Redwyne's to make each prong of the assault consist of equal strength), was preparing to take them from the west.

The larger Redwyne Fleet was to assault them from the east.

Had they not had enough of a warning to know what to expect, or the advantage of fire-breathing beasts of legend and nightmare, it may have been an almost equal attack considering their own fleet stationed in the Stepstones was only slightly smaller than the combined Lannister-Redwyne armada.

Unfortunately for the Usurper and his Lannister handlers though, they _did_ have ample enough warning to plan a counter assault, and they _did_ actually have fire-breathing beasts of legend and nightmare at their disposal.

Rhaenys and Viserys were flying on the eastern side high above the Redwyne Fleet on Sunfyre and Vermithor.

He himself was circling above the Lannister Fleet in his own massive red form along with Aurane riding atop Syrax.

He wondered if they suspected a trap of any kind?

Frankly, he would have.

Their own fleet was nearly of a size with the combined Lannister-Redwyne Fleet's. Yet, they remained at anchor- long past the time they would have spotted approaching enemy ships.

The only ships that appeared to be prepared to face them were the squadron of Dornish ships bearing the arms of the Sun and Spear of House Martell. The Dornish ships were almost directly in the middle ahead of Torturer's Deep under the command of Prince Oberyn Martell.

Had their location been different, they may have noticed the... _gift_ that the Dornish Prince had left for them.

However, the waters surrounding the Stepstones were near-tropical in appearance; being of a mostly light blue-green hue. That was highly convenient for them as it paired well with the underhanded trick that Prince Oberyn had concocted against the Lannister bastards.

They would hopefully not notice the light-green substance that flowed through the waters near the center of the area from which both sides of the fleets were bearing down on them.

If it worked correctly, the wildfire would engulf the enemy fleets _before_ the dragons began reigning down fire and blood. Hopefully, that would prevent them from using their catapults, bolts, or too many arrows from hitting the dragons and/or their riders.

The chances of them actually be able to harm the dragons were in truth very slim, but the chance was there nonetheless.

He knew it was almost time when he saw the catapults on Prince Oberyn's ship launch flaming death into the air.

He followed the trajectory with his draconic eyes, and saw them fly high and spread in a wide arc coming to land near the center of the enemy fleets from both east and west.

He waited with baited breath as the flaming shrapnel struck all throughout the center of the enemy squadrons.

One...two...three...he was beginning to think something had gone wrong as there had been no immediate reaction.

Then, all of a sudden, it was as if all the air in the area the wildfire had managed to cover seemed to press in on itself; sucking all oxygen from air, water, and man all.

The next thing he saw and heard was a massive swoosh-like sound as two enormous sickly green clouds appeared to engulf both of the approaching fleets center.

He had been forced to close his eyes when the twin explosions went off due to the brightness of the deadly green light.

It forcefully reminded him of the Killing Curse as it was near the exact same shade of electric green as the dread Wizarding curse that had ended the life of so many in his past; including himself.

When he opened his dragon forms eyes once more, he watched as the wildfire began to engulf and burn what he estimated was about half of the enemy fleets from the center outwards. The half that were not immediately dealing with the wildfire had still yet to spot the dragons it appeared.

They were now desperately attempting to avoid getting any closer to their burning comrades as well as the wildfire they could clearly identify within the water of the surrounding sea.

They had surely known that to be the only possible substance capable of such a thing.

Not giving them a chance to flee from what he was certain the remaining ships now knew to be a lost cause, Haery began to slope into a steep dive towards the outlying ships.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Aurane steering Syrax into imitating his actions not too far from his current position, and he could just barely make out Rhaenys and Viserys doing the same to the Redwyne's Fleet.

Sucking in a huge breath, he began to spew out massive torrents of red and black dragonfire as his beomoth-sized dragon form ended the hopes of the Lannister ships attempting to flee from the wildfire.

He could hear the screams and shouts of the men on the ships as they beheld his large form reigning down fire and blood upon them all.

His first targets were the sails and the rigging of the ships.

Those vital parts barely took any effort to ignite in flames as their dry materials lit up immediately.

Syrax was doing the same on the other side of the Lannister Fleet as they worked both sides in tandem to insure maximum levels of destruction.

After insuring the Usurper's ships were no longer capable of even remotely quick mobility, he flew a bit higher into the air as he began to fly massive circles around all the Lannister fleet including those already burning from wildfire; spewing out gargantuan amounts of dragonfire upon the hapless vessels.

His inner dragon was reveling in the untold amounts of wanton destruction and chaos they were unleashing and he forcefully clamped down on the more base instincts of his animagus form.

He could never allow himself to become completely submerged within a dragons consciousness. Not even with his own animagus form which was not as instinctually beastial as the connection between his kin and their dragons.

The risks of allowing such a thing were far too great.

Although he vaguely could tell an occasional arrow had struck him, they bounced off his iron-like scales harmlessly.

Dodging the infrequent load launched from the enemy catapults were likewise also only too easy to miss with his forms superb reflexes.

In times past, man had begun to have some measure of success in combating attacks by mounted dragons, but the know-how to even have a slim chance of harming a fully-grown dragon had long since become lost to the ravages of time so long ago had such a thing been needed.

Now, for the moment at least, an enemy was virtually helpless against such an assault.

In all honesty, that still did not mean he enjoyed being the cause of so much death and destruction.

He knew perfectly well that the vast majority of those that died that day had never done him or his any type of harm, and most probably had nothing personal against his family.

They were merely doing as they were told by their lords.

Such was the way of the world and war.

Always, it was the innocents who suffered the most, but he knew there was nothing to be done about it.

He considered all Westerosi from the Stepstones and the sands of Dorne, all the way to the Lands of Always Winter, to be their people... _his_ people.

He would save as many of them as possible in the war to come.

The more they were able to make loyal to them, the fewer the casualties would be.

The bulk of their enemies would come from the Westerlands and parts of the Reach and Stormlands most likely, along with some few from the Riverlands.

He would do all in his power to turn as many as he could to their cause. He strongly believed and hoped that Ser Jaime and his family would be of immense use in achieving that particular goal.

Time seemed to lose all meaning as his world revolved around flying in continuous circles, and spewing out as much dragonfire upon the enemy ships as was possible.

By the time he stopped breathing fire upon them, he felt like he was nearly about to drop out of the sky, he was so exhausted.

Looking around once more at the carnage surrounding him, he could tell that a large percentage of the enemy ships had already sunk or been burned to nothing.

Corpses littered the water, black and burned; charred beyond any and all recognition.

The few ships still remaining afloat were on fire and would not last much longer.

Far to the back, he noticed a large vessel flying the person arms of who he knew to be Paxter Redwyne, one of the finest admirals in Westeros, and a former loyal lord to House Targaryen.

He saw Aurane beginning to fly in the direction of the Admiral's ship, and moved to block his path; shaking his massive head and long neck in an negative manner telling him to leave the ship and it's men alone.

He did not wish for the death of the Lord of the Arbor who had once been so loyal to his house, nor did he wish for Westeros to lose a man of such experience.

Men such as he were not easy to replace by any means.

Besides, someone needed to be left to tell the tale which would hopefully put the fear of the gods into the black hearts of Robert and Tywin. At least it would if either man held even a modicum of sense of what was coming for them.

Though he was not going to be holding his breath in anticipation for such an eventuality.

He motioned to Aurane to bring Syrax back to land as he saw Rhaenys and Viserys doing the same.

He searched all three of them looking for any sign of injury.

He felt an immense amount of relief when all he spotted was what appeared to be a slight cut upon Aurane's forearm, and a cut that was barely little more than a scratch upon the right side of Visy's cheek. He doubted his uncle would be troubled by it. If it even left a slight scar at all, he'd likely be proud of it more than anything else as a sign to all that he was _not_ in fact the weakling some thought him to be.

Whilst his three other dragonriders landed directly in front of the Dragonfort, much to the cheers and acclaim of their men, he landed in a slightly more out of the way area to the side of the keep.

Some of his people knew of his unheard of ability to transform, but he'd still rather not elucidate _all_ of them.

They'd not have been able to see that the larger red dragon was in fact riderless. Between his position in flight, and the smoke from the fires, he would have remained obscured from view.

Hopefully, they'd all just think he sent his 'dragon' elsewhere.

He made his way back over to where Rhaenys, Viserys, and Aurane were, and was received by near-deafening amounts of cheer from the men.

He smiled slightly and bowed his head in response.

He was unable to take much joy in the amount of death that had been served today.

He was proud of their victory, very much so.

He just could not revel in it, and he saw the same look in the eyes of the other three dragonriders.

He walked up and gave his uncle a quick, but fierce embrace.

Then he bestowed another hug of both thanks and congratulations upon Aurane, who seemed awed to be receiving such affection from the Crown Prince he so idolized.

Finally, he pulled his Rhaenys into his arms.

He held onto Rhaenys tightly and he could feel her form shake slightly from the emotional turmoil he could quite literally feel coming across their bond in waves.

His own emotions were turbulent enough and full of conflicting feelings about the battle they had just won. He gently kissed her forehead and they separated, but only slightly.

He kept his arms wrapped around her as they made their way back into the Dragonfort; leaving the courtyard to tremendous amounts of cheer and praise behind.

* * *

They all walked together and had all but collapsed once they had made it to what was to become Viserys' main solar.

He pulled Rhaenys to him as they sat in an over-large chair big enough for the both of them.

He let out a deep sigh as he closed his eyes.

"That was..." He trailed off.

He was uncertain what he could possibly say.

"So much death and screaming." Rhaenys whispered quietly as she huddled closer into his side; soaking up the love and affection she could feel emanating from him.

"I don't think I'll ever forget the sounds of the burning men." Aurane said almost numbly as his shoulder-length silver hair fell into his light blue-green eyes when his head dropped forward as he remembered the screams of the dying.

He knew it would have been hard on him too.

The rest of them had at least had some experience, as this was not the first time they had served fire and blood to their enemies, though it was definitely the largest battle they had ever endured.

"That is a good thing then. I don't think we're supposed to feel any differently. If we'd have enjoyed it...if we'd have allowed our mounts baser instincts to overly affect us...we'd be no different to what my father was, and that is something none of us can ever allow again." Viserys said quietly.

He looked to his young uncle then.

He could easily tell his uncle was remembering some of Aerys' mad acts.

No child should have ever been made to bear witness to such things.

He knew his grandmother had shielded Viserys from most of the Mad King's more...depraved...acts, but even she was unable to shield him from his own father every minute of the day.

By the end, Viserys had seen many things that still gave him nightmares even now.

"Viserys is exactly right. We can never allow ourselves to become like our dragons. They revel in the carnage, but we cannot. If we ever do, we do not deserve to hold the power we wield." He said as strongly as he could muster at the moment.

"Still, what we did today saved the lives of our own people. Not a single one of our men or women perished in the fight." Viserys added positively.

"Too right, Nuncle. What we did today may have helped us for the future as well. We all saw Jae make sure Paxter Redwyne and his crew of Arbormen lived. They will tell the tale of what happened today...of just how easy it was for us to annihilate the largest armada the Usurper could throw at us...how easily we disposed of the combined naval might of the Lannister's and the Reach. Hopefully, many of those serving the Usurper and Lion's will begin to remember whom the rightful monarch truly is." Rhaenys said.

He held her tighter to him and she all but melted within his strong embrace as she leaned back against his chest and laid her head against his neck; inhaling his pleasant scent that even the fire they had unleashed were unable to completely dampen.

Not too long afterwards as they were all lost in their own thoughts and finally beginning to unwind from the carnage, Prince Oberyn and the Sand Snake's entered the room.

He cracked his eyes open when he heard their approach saw him smirking down at the sight of himself and his sister.

"Comfy are we, Your Grace's?" Oberyn asked cheekily.

"Bite me! I need comforting and I'll take it where I want to Uncle Oby." Rhaenys said as she kissed him on his cheek which elicited a fierce blush from him.

She then blew a raspberry at her Dornish uncle.

Oberyn just let out a snort of amusement at their antics.

"Dragons!" He muttered; obviously not referring to the scaled reptiles and instead their human counterparts- the Targaryen's.

"Are you alright, Little Dragon?" Oberyn asked concernedly as he sat down across from his niece and surrogate nephew while his daughters sat by his side.

"I will be." Rhaenys replied as she snuggled back down into his embrace.

Prince Oberyn stared at the both of them with another concerned look before he seemed satisfied the he would be taking good enough care of his sister as Oberyn's eyes implied he'd better.

He rolled his eyes.

Of course he'd always take care of Rhaenys.

The Prince then summoned a servant and requested supper be brought up to them there rather than the Great Hall or one of the smaller dining chambers. They'd dine privately tonight and hold a celebratory feast on the morrow.

He had to admit to himself, that he had never before seen any of the Sand Snake's as subdued as Obara and Lady Nym appeared to be at present.

Well, he took that back (at least partly), as he watched Nymeria sidle up beside Viserys who immediately pulled her closer to him.

With a grin at them, he thought he knew exactly how they'd be handling their comfort later that night.

Soon enough they were able to eat a hearty supper and just spend time as family and friends. Tomorrow they'd discuss their more pressing issues, and how they'd begin to assert their dominance over the Three Daughter's. The fact that they had dared to align themselves against the Dragons with the Usurper and Tywin Lannister's gold would not be tolerated. They were an especial threat to their burgeoning Essosi realm and peoples and they were some of the worst slavers in the western half of Essos.

They would not be for long however.

Rhaegar had been perfectly content to essentially ignore Tyrosh, Lys, and Myr indefinitely, and would have done them no harm.

However, they had acted without enough thought nor knowledge of what an enemy they had made for themselves through no fault but their own.

Soon, they would reap the consequences of waking the dragon.

Soon, they would lose their slave labor.

Soon, they would become reunited with the Free Cities already voluntarily under three-headed red dragon banners and become an integral part of the revived version of the Freehold in the Targaryen's new Empire- whether they liked it or not.

Soon, the dragons would soar once more.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter XI.**

 **Author's Note-** _Thanks to those who reviewed. This chapter is from the other sides perspective. It is really just to show what is occurring in Kings Landing and the possible future of the Vale. The next chapter will revolve mostly around Daenerys, and after that we finally get the dragons arriving in parts of Westeros itself. Some tragic events will occur in the North that will have dire consequences for some and see Ned reunited with his sister's family._

 **Disclaimer:** I Own Nothing.

* * *

 **Jon Arryn I.**

 _Lord of the Mountain and the Vale- Warden of the East_

 _Hand of the King_

 _Kings Landing- late 297 AL._

* * *

Jon Arryn sighed deeply as he looked out over the view of the Blackwater Bay. He wondered how it had all come to this? How had everything become so very...'wrong'...was the only word for it.

'Who was he trying to kid?'

 _'As High as Honor.'_ Indeed.

He nearly snorted in derisive self-disgust.

His ancestors must be rolling in their graves.

He knew exactly when it had all come to this. Just as it led to their current predicament, and was the reason he was now awaiting a hastily convened Small Council session.

It both began and ended with the Sack of Kings Landing.

That was a day he would never forget; a sight of so many horrors revealed that they never left his conscious mind.

That was the day the nightmare truly began.

It not only haunted his waking hours, but many of his nights were spent in torturous turmoil; tossing and turning as his mind was revisited incessantly by the horrendous atrocities witnessed.

 _That_ was the day he betrayed all he had ever professed to believe in.

He had thought he was doing the right thing.

He had been wrong.

So very _very_ wrong.

When the Rebellion began, he had initially been filled with wroth.

However, like the embers of a dying flame, the Rebellion had also led to the kindling of the fires of new hope rising.

The Mad Dragon had murdered his nephew and heir, Elbert.

That the reigning monarch had stooped so low as to murder (whatever else Aerys had wished to call it, that was the only possible word to be used in truth) not only _two_ heirs of the Great Houses (and of two of the most ancient ones at that), but the fact that he'd also burned alive the Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, was an act of tyranny that was entirely unprecedented.

Not even Maegor had dared behave so cruelly or unjustly.

That, and calling for the heads of both his wards, Robert Baratheon and Eddard Stark immediately afterwards.

He knew it would be the heads of his great-niece and nephew next; Benjen and Lyanna.

So, the alliance that he, Rickard Stark, and Steffon Baratheon had begun to forge had been forced by necessity and their own sense of self-preservation to be brought to the state of open rebellion against the Iron Throne.

Jon had known they'd need a popular figure to rally around, someone to strike their banners for, and he had chosen Robert Baratheon. Steffon's eldest son and heir that he had taken to ward as a boy and viewed almost as a son.

What a _horrifying_ mistake they had made.

No...not _they_...that _he_ had made.

Even if Ned had been right about nothing else (though he knew he had been right about a great many other things as well), he had definitely been right about that.

He'd certainly not asked for the Starks opinion in naming Robert as king, he'd just gone ahead and done it.

At the time, it had seemed like the best thing to do.

Of course he well knew Robert was not the rightful king.

No, if anything, young Aegon should have been chosen if Rhaegar was to be set aside.

Especially if they were to ever secure a lasting peace with Dorne.

If not Aegon, there were still others ahead of Robert.

When he'd broached the subject with Robert however, he'd flown into an almost mad rage at the mere suggestion of Aegon Targaryen, or even of marrying a son of Robert's (when he had a legitimate one of course) to the Princess Rhaenys.

He'd thought that would have been a fine compromise for both the loyalists and Jon's own allies, as had nearly everyone else.

But no, Robert had dismissed any such thoughts out of hand, so terrible was his wrath at anything even remotely associated with the Targaryen Dynasty.

Of course, with what he recently learned, handing the crown to Aegon would have been more than a bit difficult.

He was never the real heir.

No, now his very own great-grand nephew was the True Heir to the Iron Throne.

Not that he'd dare say _that_ to Robert.

Still, he'd been very hopeful for Robert's reign.

He'd hoped that all of his teachings, and his own hand in Robert's upbringing would have made for a fine king; despite his...vices.

Vices which even he could admit were quite numerous.

He'd been so sure that he'd step up to his responsibilities like he'd been raised to, and be the good king Westeros had need of to heal.

When Robert had stood tall on the battle-field at the height of his glory, he'd had a brief flash of hope.

He had hope that just maybe they'd be gaining in King Robert I Baratheon a new age with a new king who had a great destiny standing before him just like Robert's ancestor, Aegon the Conqueror.

He had been wrong.

So very _very_ wrong.

Well admittedly, he had not been completely wrong, he supposed.

Robert's reign had in fact given birth to a new age.

Only, it was an age of such corruption and internal strife that it had soon reached a level never before seen in the entire history of the Seven Kingdoms since the time of the Conquest when they had first been united.

Instead of an Aegon the Conqueror, he'd unleashed another Aegon the Unworthy upon the people of the Seven Kingdoms. Except that Robert was possibly even worse than his Unworthy ancestor, and neither did Robert have a Daeron to succeed him this time around.

He was not so blind as to believe history would thank him for it either.

His disillusionment began almost the second they entered the capital.

Jon had seen a great many things in his very long life- including both the wonders and the horrors man kind was capable of.

The sight that met his eyes when he rode through the City after the Sack would haunt him for years to come.

Those that survived the Sack...he'd never forget the look in their eyes.

Robert expected the Targaryen Capital to be welcoming him with open-armed cheers and acclaim.

There were none.

The carefully veiled looks of hate and utter loathing were frankly unnerving to the Valelord.

He'd never seen a _less_ welcoming bunch. They'd all thought that the citizens of Kings Landing would be happy to be rid of the Mad King and the Dragons.

That was when he remembered something Ned had mentioned some time before then.

He'd reminded him that the Targaryens had always held a great deal of pride of place in their capital. Even their poor were better off than many others.

Also, for over one and a half centuries, the people of Kings Landing had lived in peace, and enjoyed a general amount of prosperity with nothing to fear externally since the end of the Dance of the Dragons.

'Why _would_ they welcome them?' Ned had asked.

'Why indeed?' He'd later agreed.

His young ward from the North had been far wiser than he'd ever given him credit for at the time.

'He could certainly give him plenty of credit now.' He thought chagrined.

He was unsure whether he should feel bitter or proud of his former ward.

He certainly felt much more pride in Ned's accomplishments than he did for Robert's...infamy.

When they'd reached the Red Keep and those poor broken corpses had been presented upon the steps of the Iron Throne like they were some sort of sick offering to a merciless deity...When he'd realized that those were the corpses of a Princess of Dorne and two extremely young royal children... _that_...had somehow been worse than the sight of the horrors he'd seen making his way through the capital.

That was the very first _and only_ time he'd ever seen Ned Stark truly enraged.

Not that he could exactly blame him either.

He too had been thoroughly disgusted by the sight that met them in the Throne Room.

When Robert had smiled down at the their murdered corpses, and spat upon their broken bodies, he'd seen a look in Robert that chilled him to the bone. Robert had looked greedily at that Iron Monstrosity as he quite literally stepped over the Princess and the remains of her supposed children.

When he spoke of his plan to reward Lord Tywin for the vile acts, that had been more than Ned could stomach, and he had flown in to a black rage at the travesty before them all.

Ned had demanded that justice be brought to bear against those that committed the atrocities.

When Robert denied him that, and then proceeded to threaten Ned himself...that was when Jon had truly begun to worry.

That had been an _extremely_ stupid move on Robert's part.

That Robert sat the throne at all was in large part due to the might of the North. When he dared to threaten the head of a dynasty that had ruled half the continent for over eight millennia, Ned had lost it.

He threatened Robert right back.

Told him in no uncertain terms that House Stark and the North would have no further dealings with Robert, nor his allies. He warned him to cross the Neck at his own peril.

Jon knew he had to intervene then.

He knew all too well that one family does not rule a people and land as large and hard as the North for so very long with honor and kindness alone. No one even really knew just _what_ the North was actually capable of.

They could be an extremely dangerous foe if they so chose.

He had to psychically grab the enraged Stag to stop him from attacking the Warden of the North.

Incidentally, Jaime Lannister had very surprisingly stepped in front of Ned in his defense; sword-in-hand.

No one had thought that would be the last time any of them ever saw the man again, least of all Lord Tywin...but it was.

Ned had refused to lift the siege of Storm's End; forcing Jon to send Bronze Yohn Royce to treat with the Tyrells and break the siege.

That was when it all began to go down hill.

Without the backing and full support of the North, Robert's reign was _far_ less secure than it would have been otherwise.

Ned refused any and all communication with Robert for years afterward.

Luckily, he still corresponded with Jon himself, so he was at least able to be kept somewhat abreast of Northern affairs.

Well, as much as Ned was willing to share with him anyway, as they had very little intelligence on the happenings north of the Neck.

Frankly, Jon had been somewhat surprised Ned had even answered the call when the banners were raised to fight the Greyjoys.

The Greyjoy Rebellion (the height of total and supreme idiocy in his humble opinion) had brought about a lukewarm reconciliation between Baratheon and Stark, though Jon believed it merely a mummers farce.

Ned still had no intention of becoming entangled in Robert's messes, and made little bones about it.

It had only been their luck and good fortune that Ned simply hated the Greyjoys _more_ than he hated the idea of working with Robert again. That icy distance between the Starks and the Crown led to many worries as news of Northern advances steadily reached them in increasing intervals throughout the years.

That canal at Moat Cailin had been sheer genius; changing the very face of the North with ever-increasing opportunities.

The amount of gold the Starks were making was incalculable, and the Northern Navy now out-numbered the Redwyne Fleet itself! Not to mention the North was maintaining strong and _separate_ relations with some of the Free-Cities now that had no benefit for the rest of the realm, but great prospects for the North.

Tywin Lannister had railed about that, and urged Robert to bring the Stark Direwolf to heal, but he had counseled otherwise.

With the untimely death of Edmure Tully, the heir to Riverrun was now young Brandon Stark- Ned's second born son by the Lady Catelyn. Neither the Vale nor the Riverlands would fight against their own kin, and the North had strong alliances with both Dorne and the Free Cities.

Lord Hoster's grasping attempt at spreading Tully influence managed to backfire in spectacular fashion with the death of Ser Edmure. Instead of Riverrun spreading its influence over three of the most powerful kingdoms, it was House Stark that benefited the most by far.

Hoster's scheming had inadvertently lent wide-reaching influence to the North.

However, unless the Starks openly defied the Crown, he told Robert to leave things be as they could ill-afford what would surely become a massive civil war.

Given the advanced ages of Lord Hoster and Jon himself, there was little to no chance of the current heirs to the Riverlands and the Vale being replaced.

That Ned proved beyond any doubt to be not only Lord Rickard's heir, but his political successor as well, was unquestionable.

The elder Stark would have been immensely pleased.

Others, not so much.

Tywin had not liked the un-checked growth of his northern neighbor _at all_. He even further hated that the heir of both the Riverlands _and_ the Vale were now Starks- whether anybody else liked it or not.

A very great many did not, though the idea was far more palatable to the populations of the Riverlands and the Vale. The congeniality and fairness of House Stark was seen as a breath of fresh air in the Tully and Arryn lands

He himself had long-since been forced to make Benjen Stark his acknowledged heir.

Especially after it became apparent that there would be no children resulting from his own forced marriage to Lysa Tully.

By the gods did he loathe Lord Hoster for forcing him and Ned to wed his daughters.

He would have had such an easier time of peace and calm in the later years of his life if he had not been saddled with Lysa.

The girl was an awful shrew, and at least half-mad to boot!

For several years now he'd had Benjen governing for him in the Eyrie, despite Lysa's shrieking objections.

He would not allow for there to be any dispute amongst the Valelords as to whom was the rightful heir.

Benjen was really the only possible legitimate heir of the Main Arryn line left.

Especially after the that hunting accident that felled young Harry Hardyng...Until recently he'd learned anyway.

Not that he was over eager to disclose to Robert just who _Benjen's_ heir was.

Benjen had apparently done a very good job of ruling, and gaining the hard-earned, but fierce loyalty of the people of the Vale. Somehow he'd even managed to gather declarations of fealty from some of the Mountain Clans for the first time in millennia!

Hadn't that just been a shock.

They'd never have spoken to an Arryn, but apparently they were more amenable to a Stark.

Benjen had also gone to the trouble of publically converting to the Faith to prove his loyalty to the nobility of the Vale, and they adored him for it.

Over thirteen years away from the Eyrie in service as Hand had not done him any favors amongst his own people. It was now to the point that he doubted he could replace Benjen as the Arryn Heir even if he wanted to. Which, truth be told, he did _not_ have any desire to do as Benjen was just as devoted to his mother's people as he was to his father's. Jon knew he would make a noble, and more importantly- _honorable_ , Lord of the Vale.

Now, they were left in their current predicament.

Nearly two moons ago, Lord Varys had come to him with the most shocking news.

He visited him in private as he had not yet confirmed everything he was beginning to hear, and wanted to be sure of the facts before he brought the matter before the Small Council and the King.

After learning what Varys' little birds had heard, he agreed that such prudence was entirely necessary. He strongly agreed that caution be used, and that they only inform the King after they had confirmed verifiable evidence. Such life-altering allegations must needs be investigated as thoroughly as was possible. He needed irrefutable proof before he brought any of the disastrous news to Robert.

Jon did not think he'd ever been more shocked by anything else in his entire life.

The knowledge learned on that day so profoundly altered everything he'd thought he'd known that he doubted there was anything in this life that could possibly shock him so thoroughly.

Even now, moons after the initial shock had been delivered, Jon still had difficulty coming to grips with the weight of all he now knew.

It seemed the whole world had been turned on its head, and he was still left reeling.

He shuddered in remembrance of the King's reaction when they brought him their initial findings.

He himself had been shocked in the extreme, but also...not quite as shocked as he let on.

Many things that had been very curious to him years ago now began to make _much_ more sense to him after all this time spent wondering.

Just as he'd never forget the Sack of Kings Landing, he'd never forget the news Varys brought to him of the truth of Prince Rhaegar and his great-niece, Lyanna. The shock he received that day would very soon change the very face of Westeros as they knew it.

In all manner of being, the dragons had returned, and they'd returned stronger than ever before.

The game had changed, and now...now it was time to dance.

The world had been altered to such an extent that he had still yet to decide exactly whom his dancing partner would be.

* * *

Lord Arryn brought his mind back to the present as he stepped away from the balcony overlooking the Blackwater and made his way back to the table the Small Council normally sat for their meetings. He was still the only one in the room at the moment.

He dearly hoped Robert managed to come to the meeting at least somewhat sober. It was a rare state for the King in recent years.

He shuddered.

It was no secret in the realm that the King was a drunken whoremonger (as much as Jon would like to defend Robert's behavior, even he could not deny what was blatantly obvious to even the lowest of the small-folk in Flea Bottom).

Robert's atrocious behavior, compounded by his frankly disgustingly lavish life-style had plunged the Iron Throne into _far_ more debt that at any other time...in the _entire_ history of the Seven Kingdoms!

That was truly an accomplishment too, if one compared Robert's rule to the reigns of Maegor and Aegon the Unworthy.

This had resulted in _enormous_ tax increases that had become harder and harder to collect with each passing year as the nobles and commons alike grew in ever-increasing anger.

He knew perfectly well that there were massive feelings of resentment to both the Baratheon King and those who were seen as his enablers and enforcers: the Lannisters.

He doubted that _any_ family had ever been so overwhelmingly despised as that of Lord Tywin's.

That man's cunning ruthlessness gave Jon the chills, and honestly made his skin crawl.

'Was it really worth it to be feared so?' He wondered.

Sure, it afforded quick obedience from most of his subordinates and any truculent lords, but was that small amount of extra compliance worth being so universally loathed?

Not in his opinion.

Such a thing would never be worth it, because in the end, there would be no one you could truly rely upon without threat. No dynasty had ever survived such an existence for very long, and he personally thought Lord Tywin was deluding himself in believing he was building a legacy to last throughout the ages.

It would never happen.

Something he believed quite firmly, and was not-so-secretly rather happy for.

He dreaded the up-coming council meeting something fierce.

Robert was becoming harder and harder to control.

When he had informed Robert that the likelihood of the men of the Vale actually fighting _against_ Lyanna's husband and children was virtually non-existent, he had been on the receiving end of Robert's black rage for the very first time.

He had definitely not taken the almost certain (at best) neutrality of the Vale very well.

Not that there was much Jon could do to change that situation regardless of how much Robert huffed and puffed.

When Lord Tywin had secretly suggested his new plan to bring war to the Targaryens by way of an combined attack from Tyrosh, Lys, and Myr together with the Lannister and Redwyne Fleets, he had begun to think that the Old Lion would _finally_ gain the position he had so long coveted: his own position as Hand of the King.

Truthfully, he had very nearly wished for him to be granted his desire as he was more than ready to be done with the capital himself.

Alas, the Targaryens surprised them yet again, and now he had to report on the complete and total failure of Lord Tywin's plans.

He would never admit to the not exactly small part within him that relished in any and all failures of Lord Tywin's nefarious machinations.

The fleets of both Tyrosh and Lys had been completely annihilated as well, and there was now a massive Targaryen host besieging...and in all likelihood about to conqueror...the City of Myr at that very moment.

That was of course, if they had not already done so.

The Three Daughter's of Old Valyria were poised upon the brink of collapse.

It was also curious that there was seemingly nothing they could do that would tempt Volantis to make a single move to aid any of them. That was a very curious state of things indeed in his opinion, and also spoke volumes as to where the sympathy of the Volantenes lay.

He suspected that the Queen Dowager had formed an alliance with the Volantene Tigers, and the old Valyrian nobility which dwelled within the Black Walls of the City.

It was the only explanation that made any amount of sense.

As the last of the blood of the Forty, he could well imagine Volantis aligning themselves with the Targaryens, and the new union that was shaping up to resemble something approaching the former glory of the Freehold.

A willing Volantis voluntarily joining such a conglomeration of power was a truly frightening prospect.

The Lion of the Rock could stay in denial all he liked, but the overwhelming victory of the Targaryen forces against so large a coalition had at least proved to him that those rumors about them possessing dragons held more than a grain of truth.

In the end, all Lord Tywin's plan had done was to add large swaths of territory to Rhaegar and Lyanna's new Essosi Empire. He shuddered to think of what that demon of a man would attempt to conjure up next.

The more desperate Tywin Lannister became, the more dangerous he was by far.

It was being called the Empire of 'New Valyria' by some, and simply the 'Targaryen Empire' by others.

There was a difference this time though.

Instead of bringing down a heavy hand and enslavement, the new Empire was bringing freedom to the many thousands upon thousands of slaves that would have otherwise never had any chance to enjoy the freedoms those in Westeros took for granted on a daily basis.

He would be lying if he had said that the actions of his niece and grand-nephew had not secretly brought him a tremendous amount of pride.

They had, and he felt his stomach churn in guilt as he learned more and more of just how brave and innovative his sister's bloodline had become.

The entire family seemed to be poised upon the cusp of greatness, and here he sat; trying half-heartedly (at best) to aid the degenerate of a man who would see them all brought down low.

Whether he was referring to King Robert or Lord Tywin, even he was unsure.

There would come a day that he knew was quickly approaching, when Jon would be forced to make a decision concerning his continued support of Robert Baratheon.

He knew he was only delaying the inevitable because the simple fact of the matter was that he could never allow any of his forces to harm his own kin. That would have been too much of a sin for him to contemplate despite all the other times he'd been forced to make morally questionable decisions as Robert's Hand.

Kinslaying was not something he'd allow anyone to _ever_ accuse him of.

Slowly, the other members of the Small Council filed into the room.

Grand Maester Pycelle, Lord Varys, Petyr Baelish, Renly Baratheon, Stannis Baratheon, Ser Arys Oakheart of the Kingsguard, Tywin Lannister (although he had no official capacity within the government at present) and finally Robert himself arrived.

Of course, hoping for him to be sober had apparently been too much to ask for as he was already obviously well in to his cups.

When Robert staggered into his chair at the opposite end of the long table directly facing Jon, he looked out over those gathered and made to speak.

Before he could however, Robert drunkenly interrupted him.

"So, Jon. Tell me, are the Whore and those filthy Dragonspawn dead yet?" Robert demanded more than asked of him.

The look in his former foster-son's eyes when he spoke of his grand-niece and her family positively chilled the Lord of the Vale.

Ever since the initial revelation of the continued existence of Lyanna and Rhaegar amongst the living, that had been the only way Robert would ever speak of them.

Lyanna was always, ' _the Whore_ ', and the other Targaryens were always to be referred to as, ' _Dragonspawn_ '.

His obsessive hate of all things Targaryen had always been its own form of madness within Robert.

Now...now the look in Robert's eyes truly worried him.

He'd seen it before.

One glance at Stannis Baratheon, and he could tell he had recognized the same. It was a look neither of them were ever likely to forget: it was near identical to that of the Mad King himself anytime he'd seen the man after Duskendale. It left the Falcon Lord chilled to the very depths of his old bones.

He steeled himself and hardened his resolve.

He would tell the council the facts as they were.

Sugar-coating them would change nothing, no matter how much part of him wished it, if no other reason than to avoid the almost certain scene Robert was sure to create.

Robert had become especially adept to those of late.

He cleared his throat, and took a sip of his water from the goblet in front of him.

"As the Small Council is aware, through the clandestine efforts of Lord Tywin, the Crown has made an alliance and joined its forces in common cause with the free-cities of Tyrosh, Lys, and Myr- against House Targaryen and its allies."

"In so doing, both the Lannister and Redwyne Fleets set sail to cross into the Narrow Sea; intending to assault Kingsport and Pentos directly. As you know, that is where the Targaryens have made the base of their power. Together, the Lannister and Redwyne Fleets were thought to be too formidable to be overcome by whatever the Targaryens could cobble together with the majority of their naval strength far to the east in the Summer Sea. The Tyroshi and Lyseni corsairs in the Stepstones had been instructed by their overlords to offer all possible aid to help our fleet pass through the Straits..." He trailed off there and took another deep breath of fortification.

"However, by the time the Lannister and Redwyne Fleets arrived and approached the Stepstones, they found the isles under new management."

"Somehow, the Targaryen Fleet, in conjunction with the Dornish, had taken hold of the islands, and held them for their own. The pirates native to the isles had either fled back to Tyrosh and Lys, or have been destroyed. We now have unequivocal proof...whether or not some still choose to deny it...that the Targaryens are indeed once again in possession of the living symbol of their house: dragons."

He was forced to halt his battle report due to the cacophony of voices that descended from those seated at the ridiculousness of his claim of dragons in this day and age.

"Impossible! Tis simply...not...possible. We were assured they would never again be able to...no. No. Impossible!" Pycelle wheezed out; eyes almost bugging out of his head in his fervent string of rampant denials.

"Come now, My Lord. What fables have you been listening to? Someone is obviously just trying to scare us." Renly Baratheon postulated loudly to any and all who would listen.

As ever, dearly loving the sound of his own voice.

"When whores come up with tall tales, sometimes it's necessary to beat the truth out of them. Perhaps your informants could use some further incentives to bring you more... _reliable_...information, My Lord Hand." Baelish chimed in again with _yet another_ vulgar reference to his whores and brothels.

How Jon loathed that little cretin of a flesh-peddler.

"Preposterous! I refuse to believe that after over a century and half of extinction that dragons have... _supposedly_...suddenly and miraculously returned to the world at the time our enemies would have need of them the most!" Lord Tywin stated with absolute certainty ringing in his iron tone.

However, it was actually Robert's surprisingly quiet (and extremely uncharacteristic) question that somehow managed to silence the din of noisy racket.

"What could possibly make you believe that the _fucking Dragonspawn_ have _fucking dragons_?" Robert asked in a firm, but relatively quiet tone that was surprisingly clear given his near-constant state of inebriation.

The King's question managed to silence the competing voices of all the others...finally.

"Because, Your Grace, of the over one hundred and forty ships that comprised the Lannister and Redwyne Fleets, not a _single_ vessel made it past the Stepstones. Only _one_ ship made it back to land _at all_. The flagship of Paxter Redwyne was at the back of the fleet. They somehow managed to notice what was about to happen to their ships, and turned around towards the coast. Unable to land without almost assuredly becoming hostages in any Dornish port, they made for the Arbor as quickly as possible."

"Paxter Redwyne is an experienced and highly competent admiral. He is also _not_ prone to flights of fancy. The simple fact of the matter is that the entirety of _both_ fleets were completely destroyed, something which should not have been possible even _if_ the enemy held overwhelming numbers in their favor. At least _some_ of them would have survived. If the Lord of the Arbor says his fleet was destroyed by four, fully-grown dragons, we'd be fools not to take the threat seriously."

"Your Grace, the remaining evidence is overwhelming and incontrovertible. We can no longer deny what Lord Varys has been telling us from the very beginning of the crisis." He told the King as delicately as he dared.

He could see the ever-mounting fury his house was famous for beginning to rage along the surface of Robert's countenance.

He prayed they could at least discuss things rationally for a while before he completely lost his coherency, and plunged himself into the oncoming black rage that was apparent to all who cared to look.

He was surprised when it appeared the gods had granted him a temporary reprieve.

"What other evidence are you referring to, Jon?" Robert asked him.

He took another sip of his water before speaking.

"After the destruction of our fleet, it appears that further Dornish troops landed to help garrison the islands and allowed the majority of the Targaryen forces to strike elsewhere. Knowing of the alliance with the Three Daughters, and that they were out in force to attack them, the Targaryens then descended upon first, the Tyroshi Fleet, and then the Lyseni Fleet." He explained as best he could before elaborating.

"The plan was for the forces of Tyrosh and Lys to combine and join their naval strength together. Before they had the chance, they were set upon separately, and _both_ forces were annihilated; leaving both Tyrosh and Lys all but defenseless."

"Currently, they are both being heavily blockaded as the remaining portions of the Targaryen and Pentoshi navy's have descended upon Myr, while their land forces are currently laying siege to the land side. From our intelligence reports, two of the four dragons that had helped conqueror the Stepstones, met up with two _more_ dragons that appeared from the direction of Kingsport. They are reigning down dragonfire upon the City of Myr until it capitulates. Which has, in all likelihood, already surrendered."

"It is now only a matter of time until both Tyrosh and Lys are forcibly incorporated into the new Targaryen Kingdom." He explained as patiently as he could manage while he waited for Robert to blow his top.

This time, he was in no way surprised when Robert finally let lose his almost maniacal rage.

With an inarticulate sound of utter wrath and fury, Robert Baratheon roared and slammed his meaty fists upon the oaken table as he stood to his full and impressive height. His chair flew backwards and toppled over in his haste.

Jon's eyes widened to notice an actual crack in the wood where the large king's fists had made contact with the hardwood of the table. He was impressed despite himself and the seriousness of the situation.

"I want those _fucking_ Dragonspawn, and their _fucking_ dragons dead! Do you hear me! I don't give a flying fuck what it takes. I don't care if you have to send ever man, woman, and child we have to _fucking_ Essos! I want them dead! I have been betrayed by _everything_ and _everyone_!"

"I won't stand for any of it anymore, do you hear me?"

"I want those fucking inbred, silver-haired, pieces of shit _dead_. I want Ned _Fucking_ Stark dead. I want _all_ Starks dead! I want those damn snakes- the _fucking_ Martells, dead. I want the heads of every last _fucking_ Targaryen loyalist in this gods forsaken country!"

He heaved in a great gulp of air to continue his tirade unabated.

"If I don't see some gods be damned results, and you don't bring me the heads of every last one of those mad bastard sons of whores and rapists, I will kill... _every_... _single_... _one_... _of_... _you_...until I see some _fucking_ results!" He spat; literally spraying several of them liberally with wine and spittle.

"Do you all understand me now? Am I being _fucking_ clear?" He boomed; becoming louder and louder until he ended with an almighty roar of fury.

The silence in the room was palpable.

Nobody hardly dared breathe, let alone speak, so terrified were they all of Robert's wrath.

The look in the King's eyes was positively feral.

His massive bulk was heaving, and the vein on his forehead was throbbing as his face had turned an unhealthy shade of puce. His features were set in a rictus of mad rage and nobody wanted to draw the King's ire.

Not even the infamous Lord Tywin Lannister himself dared.

Robert had sat back down in a heap into his ornate chair. His body was sagging from the exertion his black rage had induced.

He saw the King motion for his Lannister squire to pour him some more wine. Downing the glass, he soon drained it to the bottom. Not content with merely a glass at a time, he grabbed the pitcher itself when the squire went to refill the King's drink and began to drink copious amounts of the alcohol straight from pitcher.

His numerous chins and unkempt beard were dripping with alcohol.

He could not help the question that next arose unbidden within the confines of his mind.

'Why am I here?' He wondered.

Why _was_ he here?

He'd even heard tales that his great-nephew was something of a prodigy and was shaping up to becoming one of the finest princes the world had ever seen. What he wouldn't give to have a sovereign and king he could actually respect. Especially as the prince in question was his very own blood kin; his sweet sister's eldest grandson in fact.

Again, his mind whispered the question.

'Why _exactly_ am I still here?' He pondered.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jon saw Lord Tywin nod subtly to Baelish as if they had some sort of unspoken agreement. He shuddered to think of what those two devious minds would conjure.

"Your Grace, if I may?" Lord Tywin asked.

He wondered what that devil was up to now.

The only response from the King he received was a grunt he supposed was affirmation to continue. It was hard to tell while Robert was chugging his wine non-stop.

"I believe I have come up with a suitable alternative that may help us to regain the advantage over these usurpers." The King's good-father began.

The irony of him of all people referring to the Targaryens as 'usurpers' was not lost on the Falcon Lord.

Robert looked at Tywin with dangerous eyes.

"Speak!" The King demanded.

"There are two powers we could turn to for alliance that have the power to destroy whatever support the Dornish and the Northern barbarians could offer the Dragons. Both would require sacrifice on our part, but I fear it needs must be done if Your Grace wishes to retain the Iron Throne." The Warden of the West said.

Robert narrowed his blood-shot eyes at the Lannister Lord.

" _Who_...and _what_...would that be?" The King questioned.

"The first...and easiest...thing to do would be to offer an alliance between the Iron Throne and the Tyrells. The Redwyne Fleet may have been destroyed, but Paxter Redwyne survived and the Reach have plenty of funds and resources to quickly rebuild their fleet to an even larger standard than before. They will not only be anxious for revenge against the Targaryens, they will also be capable of sending at least seventy to eighty thousand men to the Crown's cause."

'Carrot and stick approach.' Jon thought.

"To secure their loyalty, all we need do is offer up Prince Joffrey to the Lady Margaery. Mace Tyrell would do nearly anything to make his only daughter a queen. To achieve that, we would gain the full might of the Reach and such tried and tested commanders for our side as Randyl Tarly and Mathis Rowan as opposed to them fighting against us. Your son is approaching marriageable age now and has need of a wife anyway. What better solution than binding the might of Highgarden and the Reach to the Iron Throne?" Lord Tywin proposed.

Considering that he had long considered the Tyrells a wild card given their past loyalty to King Aerys, and the fact that the Reach was indeed powerful enough to not only render the Dornish obscelete, but still have the men to spare...that was actually a rather brilliant suggestion from the Lord Lion.

Jon however, had his reservations.

The Reach, he knew, was filled to the brim with a great number of Targaryen loyalists. While someone like Mace Tyrell may have little qualms with changing sides with whichever way the winds of power appeared to be blowing at that moment, there were many in the Reach whom took their old oaths and vows of fealty in all seriousness.

He had a hard time imagining pious lords like Rowan and Tarly or even Hightower turning on the family they had fought so long to keep in power.

However, if Lord Mace _could_ prevail upon them, it would be possible to do exactly as the Lord of the Rock said.

He had a feeling they would only be prolonging the inevitable, and that it would merely be leading to a much larger amount of blood being spilt.

By the approving glint he saw in Robert's eye, he knew any objection would be futile despite the fact that he knew perfectly well how little Robert would want anything to do with the only man to ever defeat him at the Battle of Ashford (Tarly).

He also knew Robert could care less who Joffrey wedded or bedded, and would have no qualms about such an arrangement.

He already pitied the Lady Margaery if she was to be bound to that monstrous little shit of a Crowned Prince. That boy was not only a sadist, but mad to boot in his humble opinion. Robert was well aware of that, but simply did not care.

"See it done, Lord Tywin. Just make certain to keep a close eye on those damned Roses." Robert said approvingly.

He decided to find out what the other 'suggestion' the dread lord had in mind.

"What was the other suggestion, Lord Lannister?" He asked.

"What I am about to suggest will be difficult to contemplate; even for myself. It is in not something I _wish_ to do, but I see little else that could achieve the same reults. It..." Tywin began, but was cut off by Robert.

"Out with it, damn you!" Robert barked.

Tywin narrowed his eyes in anger; no doubt at being ordered about by anyone, king or not.

"As Your Grace wills it. I would have us treat with the Greyjoys and..." Tywin began again, but was once again cut off as nearly everyone at the table begin shouting one over the other.

"Silence, you fools! Speak Lannister!" Robert's voice boomed.

"I would have us treat with the Greyjoys. Whilst the Reach can negate any support the Dornish scum could muster for the Dragonspawn, that still leaves the North and the Starks to deal with as internal enemies. I would suggest giving Balon Greyjoy leave to have his longships reave in the North."

"They have had long enough to rebuild their forces somewhat since their last rebellion. They have the power to set upon the North in such a manner as to keep the Starks completely occupied and unable to aid the Dragonspawn in any meaningful way. If they were allowed to keep whatever they managed to take and hold of the North from the Stark traitors, I believe they would be amenable to such an endeavor, Your Grace." Lord Tywin proposed.

Robert's eyes had hardened the second Lord Tywin mentioned the name Greyjoy, but he saw the drunken calculation in his eyes when the Lannister began to describe just what he had in mind for House Stark and likely Ned in particular.

Jon was feeling decidedly uncomfortable.

To bribe (and he had no doubts that was _exactly_ what Tywin would have to do to get Balon to cooperate) the Ironborn filth to attack their own countrymen...It did not sit well with him at all.

No one deserved to be forced to endure what the Ironborn routinely did to people indiscriminately.

It was not that many years ago they had all (the North and Ned included) fought together to destroy the threat the rapists and reavers posed to all of Westeros.

To ally with such filth would be the height of dishonor and folly in his opinion.

' _Of course_ ', a little voice in the back of his mind whispered to him once again.

' _Since when had Robert acted with a shred of honor since he spat on and walked over the corpses of those children to mount the Iron Throne_ '?

That voice of doubt in his mind that he was doing the right thing in his continued support of Robert, and that sounded suspiciously like Ned, was beginning to become harder and harder to ignore with each passing day.

"Get it done! Offer the bastards whatever they want of that traitor Starks godsforsaken lands. The more Stark heads they can send me, the more I'll allow them to keep of that wasteland!" Robert proclaimed viciously.

His lust for blood was as ever unchecked and undiminished as the vengeful gleam in his blood-shot eyes attested to.

He saw an almost gleeful look come in to the eyes of both Lord Tywin and Petyr Baelish.

He would not stand for this.

This...this was too much.

He could not in good conscience support such base action.

In case they had forgotten (or more likely simply did not care), these were _his_ kin they were speaking of. Benjen Stark was _his_ heir. Ned was the son he'd always _wished_ he had been blessed with, and those so-called ' _dragonspawn_ ' were his great-nieces and nephews. Not to mention the small fact the Lady Stark was his own good-sister.

"Robert! You can't..." He said; trying to reason with his former ward before Robert cut him off completely and with a viciousness that had never before been directed at Jon Arryn himself.

"You dare! You dare to still defend that treacherous dog!" He shouted enraged.

"No!" He bellowed.

"I won't have it anymore, Jon. I won't hear it from you, nor anyone else. If you keep on with speaking such...I may have to start questioning on just which side you're truly on. Especially since you are already harboring traitors in the Eyrie and are too cowardly to support your rightful king!" Robert's voice boomed out to him threateningly.

* * *

This was as much as he could tolerate.

He now knew then that any influence he may have once held over Robert Baratheon had vanished completely.

If his council would not be heeded, or even taken into consideration, then there was nothing left for him here.

Tywin and his evils now held sway, and he could not in good conscience have any part in the planning of the deaths of his own kin; many of which were still children.

He would never be able to face his beloved sister when his time came to be re-united with his family once more if he played any part in the murder of her young grandchildren.

He would _not_ see Lyanna's babes brought before Robert on that iron monstrosity.

He would not allow his little sister's blood to be butchered like Princess Elia.

If he had to choose...so be it.

Robert Baratheon was not fit to rule, and he cared nothing for the people of Westeros. He cared only for his own pleasures and damn anything else that got in the way of that.

It was time he repaired himself back to the Eyrie.

However, he was not so foolish as to say anything that would arouse Robert's suspicions further, or he may never be allowed to leave this accursed city alive. He knew Lord Tywin would love nothing more than to bring him down.

With that final resolution now in the forefront of his mind, he simply bowed his head submissively.

"Of course, Your Grace." He replied dutifully.

Robert had to blink at his reaction.

He was no doubt surprised he was not putting up more of a fight.

He did not fail to notice that Lord Tywin had narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

He'd have to keep both eyes open where the Lannister Lord was concerned lest he find him and his visited by the Mountain.

The talks continued on as Tywin and Robert basically did all they could to ensure as many Starks and Targaryens and Martells and anyone else even mildly sympathetic to the Dragons would find themselves murdered in the most brutal manner possible, whilst men like Baelish were all but salivating at the prospect.

He knew not to inform Lysa that they would be fleeing the City. Not unless he wished Littlefinger to almost immediately know.

He was in luck that Lord Bronze Yohn Royce had arrived to bring him word from Benjen several days past, and would be leaving soon. It would not seem too strange for a little more cargo to be added to the Royce's ship.

They would likely have to flee in the middle of the night, or at least board the ship in the night in order to avoid detection.

Now, he'd only need to decide whether or not he'd actually be able to allow his men to fight against Robert and the Lannisters- or not.

He well knew many of them would very much like to, but could he stomach it?

Could he really turn fully against Robert?

He was not yet sure.

Truth be told though, he shuddered to think about the near certain fact that if Robert won the up-coming fight, Lannister dominance and power would be cemented and virtually all-powerful.

In good conscience, he did not think he could subject the people of Westeros to such a fate.

He needed to speak with Benjen in person to find out more about his niece's family.

That was the only way he'd be able to decide, and he knew he'd have to make a decision soon.

He doubted neutrality would be an option for anyone this time around.

Eventually, the Small Council ran out of ideas of the best ways to murder entire families for the moment, and he was not surprised to see Robert actually looking a bit more chipper than when he arrived.

He may have initially received some bad news and setbacks, but one could always rely upon the honor of the Lord Lion to conjure up any number of new schemes involving treachery, deceit, and rampant attempts at mass murder that would improve the King's countenance.

Tywin never failed to produce plans so twisted that he thought he could even see what he thought to be some form of familial affection developing between Robert and the child-killing Lannister.

With his back straight and his face blank, Jon Arryn left the Small Council Chambers as Hand of the King for the last time.

He had no way of knowing it, but his sudden departure from the capital would prove fortuitous for other reasons as well.

Had he remained any longer at all, he would have fallen victim to the murder plot that had recently been concocted between Petyr Baelish and his wife due to her unexpected pregnancy that Lord Arryn would immediately know could not possibly have been the result of their non-existent sex life.

It was supposed to be at the planned dinner the next night that he was to have been given the first dose of the poison that would have soon killed him. Had his wife not been so surprised by their abrupt departure that she had no time to collect it, they likely would have succeeded.

Her tryst with Littlefinger would soon become known. It would be the product of one of many scandals that would soon to befall House Tully.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter XII.**

 **Author's Note-** _Thanks to those who reviewed. This chapter has some more action in it. At the end I've added a second POV that brings us to Westeros and a tragedy that will change things monumentally for everyone. I hate killing off any of the good guys...but it had to happen. It won't happen often, and I only have one more death of the protagonist's family to endure afterwards. Their revenge will be swift, brutal, and devastating in its wrath...and it will come very soon. Thanks again!_

 **Disclaimer:** I Own Nothing.

* * *

~ **Daenerys I. POV** ~

 _City of Myr_

 _[First Month of 298 AL]_

She loved the feeling of freedom and exhilaration that flying upon Silverwing always brought her. Soaring through the air on the back of one of the most fearsome, yet magnificent beasts to ever grace the world was something she could never get enough of. Oftentimes, it felt like this was exactly what she had been born to do.

In her so far rather limited experience, it was a feeling unlike any other.

She knew she quickly approaching the City of Myr, and that it would not be long now till she was to get her first taste of battle on dragonback.

Not only that, but she also knew that she'd soon be reunited with those she held most dear. She was eagerly waiting to finally be with them once more.

Daenerys allowed her thoughts to drift as she continued to soar ever closer to their goal since she still had a bit more ground to cover.

Dany had been so very worried about Viserys, Rhaenys, and especially Jaehaerys when they left so quickly to defeat the naval might of the Reach and the Westerlands, and bring the Stepstones under the Targaryen banners.

She had waited so long for her best-friend to return from the East with Rhaegar.

It had seemed like an unendingly long age of near-torture to endure being so long separated from the one person she was closest to in all the world.

Then he finally returned, only to be forced to leave almost immediately again.

All her life, it had been Rhaenys, Jaehaerys, and herself. They had always been together, and only rarely ever apart.

They were the two pillars she leaned on to gain her strength and find the courage to become more than society and men in general would have her be.

In an age where women were to be seen and unheard, Jaehaerys had ever been her champion; encouraging her to speak her mind and give voice to her own wants and needs.

She'd never felt the urge to sit around embroidering or attempting other such 'lady-like' pursuits. The traditional role of a royal or nobly-born young woman had never appealed to Daenerys.

With examples of other independent-minded women like her mother, and her fierce good-sister Lyanna, Dany saw first-hand that if one was intelligent and daring enough, she need not be hindered by the worlds pre-conceived notions of where her place in life fell.

Out of all her family though, Haery had always been her strongest advocate in defying the norms of societal convention. She'd always been encouraged to do more...to _be_ more...than the rest of the world would see her as.

He encouraged her dreams, and challenged her mind.

He'd also taught her a great deal.

They learned many things together- just the three of them.

When Jaehaerys had shown Rhaenys and herself the wonders and might of magic, and all its thrilling possibilities, she had discovered a thirst within herself to prove to everyone she was indeed more than just a pretty little princess.

Her Haery (for that is what he would always be in both her mind and heart) had shown her such wondrous things. He taught her how to use her gifts to reach her full potential. That had given way to an infinite number of possibilities.

Those lessons had bonded the three of them together within something that she believed was entirely unique in the present age.

She'd never forget the first time she saw her best friend turn into a dragon of all the mad things!

That had been the start of everything for not only the three of them, but also for their family's resurgence as a whole.

He taught them all he could of magic and sorcery, just like the Targaryens of old.

Though she knew perfectly well that what he was capable of had likely _never_ been seen by anyone else ever before, pre-Doom or not.

She had seen him do things that defied all the normal expectations that the magic of their world was thought to be capable of. Some of what she'd witnessed blew her away with the sheer power and strength of his magic. Not even the darkest of Blood Magicks were thought to have been able to conjure what Haery could. The Shadowbinders of Asshai would weep in envy to behold a display of his magicks that were previously only thought to have been the provinces of the gods alone.

For that was what he most resembled to Dany- a god made flesh and rendered into the most beautiful of human forms.

She knew there was so much more to Jaehaerys that they would likely never know.

Many things about her nephew simply defied all logic and reason.

While such things might have put some off, it only served to intrigue Daenerys further- if such a thing were even possible.

He was ever an enigma wrapped within a riddle; intriguing and mystifying all at the same time.

Though she may never completely understand all there was to him, she knew she would quite happily spend the rest of her life attempting to do just that.

Sometimes, when he thought no one to be looking, he would look so oddly troubled. It was as if he'd been born with the weight of the world upon his young shoulders.

It was not the same type of melancholic tendencies her eldest brother would occasionally become immersed within. No, it was more like he'd already seen and experienced such a multitude of things that none of them were likely to ever be able to completely comprehend.

She knew Rhaenys had sensed the same, yet they never spoke of it; silently agreeing that if it were possible, he'd tell them in his own time.

At least she hoped he would feel able to confide in them as their bond continued to grow.

As they'd learned and grown more together, so too did their bond.

The longer they were together, and the more they immersed themselves within their magicks, the stronger it became.

For years now, it had grown in strength on nearly a daily basis.

She could quite literally _feel_ the both of them; Haery more than Rhaenys most of the time. The same as Rhaenys could feel Haery more than she could Dany.

They knew not what it was, only that it bound them together in an inextricable manner that was wholly unique.

Frankly, Daenerys would not have had it any other way.

She treasured them and their bond with one another above all else.

The older they became, the stronger their bond was made.

By now, it had been the only thing that made her and Rhaenys' separation from Jaehaerys for well over a year at all bearable.

They could still feel one another and each others love.

Each night that he had been gone, she had felt Haery had sent out all his love and comfort to both Rhaenys and herself before sleep claimed them. No matter the distance separating them, they always felt his presence. It even extended into their dreams, and had made the separation marginally tolerable.

They were reunited in their dreams each night without fail.

She had never experienced dreams quite so lucid either. It was as if they were all three actually together again. It had enabled them to grow even closer with one another if such a thing were possible.

That feeling had been the only thing to sustain her throughout their long separation.

She knew as she aged, so too did her feelings mature.

She was perfectly well aware that what she felt for Jaehaerys was not merely the bonds of friendship and kinship.

It was so very much more than that.

Simply put, her heart yearned for him.

She had already begun to feel such things for Haery well before he left with Rhaegar for the East.

Initially, such thoughts and feelings had confused her, but after a very long talk with Rhaenys and then her mother, she accepted her feelings as well as their bond for what they were: love.

She loved the both of them dearly, and she treasured Haery especially.

She loved him with all of her heart, and she knew she'd never be happy unless they were together always.

When Haery finally, yet briefly returned from the East, her heart had been fit to bursting when she laid eyes on him once more.

She had greedily drank in the sight of him.

At four and ten name days, Haery had truly come in to his own.

Gone were the gangly limbs and the slightly awkward phase of a boy barely upon the cusp of manhood.

The boy that returned to her was the vision of a breath-taking young Valyrian god.

His chiseled features and defined musculature had awoken a passion within herself she'd not know she was capable of feeling.

He had certainly stolen the breath away from both Rhaenys and herself.

Never before in her life had she seen a young man of such total and exquisite beauty, and she had known in that moment with absolute certainty that she was in love with him.

She loved him with every fiber of her being, and she knew there was nothing in the world that would ever change that simple, but true fact.

She cared not any longer what anyone else would think.

They could burn for all she cared.

She loved him...and that was all there was to it.

They were three parts of a whole, and only complete together as one.

She knew the true histories of their people, and she well understood why they had done the things they'd done.

The dragons had always mated with each other, and their human counterparts were no different.

It took a real sorcerer to be a true dragon, and with that came the same all-consuming lust and desire of the beasts themselves. After the initial bonding with their dragons, which had involved a fair amount of both the blood and magic of rider and mount, there would have been little they could have done to escape the desires to which it almost always inevitably led them towards.

They all knew by now that it was a consequence of the bonding, and gaining the ability and powers necessary to control the dragons.

In a way, it was the magic and work of the dragons themselves ensuring the blood of their bond mates would remain strong enough into the next generations to maintain their power and connection.

Nothing else could, or would ever possibly come close to quenching such a primal thirst they begat, nor with the strength of the longing she felt upon once again laying eyes on her nephew.

No one else would ever be able to compare to the need and love shared between them.

She was well and truly lost, and she would not have it any other way.

They were her mates, and they were bound by love, blood, and magic itself for all eternity together.

It was with those thoughts and final realizations in mind that she had resolved (and she knew Rhaenys had as well) to finally make her heart and her feelings known when next they had the opportunity for time to themselves.

Haery was too honorable to act on the feelings she knew beyond any doubt that he bore for them without prompting from her and Rhaenys first.

Which was part of the reason why putting down the Three Daughter's as quickly as possible was so important.

She wanted them back, and she wanted them back with her as soon as possible.

She was silently thankful that the recent past had been so eventful as she had dearly needed the distractions provided.

The past few weeks since Haery and Rhaenys had been away conquering the Stepstones had luckily been remarkably busy for those of them that had remained at Kingsport.

They had received word from Lord Varys that while the Lannister and Redwyne Fleets were moving towards the Straits of the Stepstones to annihilate them, Tywin Lannister had managed to gain an alliance with Tyrosh, Lys, and Myr for the sole purpose of destroying them all.

This had not been made known to the Small Council however, and the Spider had just barely managed to discover the threat in time for them to plan a counter offensive.

With Rhaegar still away in the East, and Jaehaerys, Viserys, and Rhaenys preparing to take on the Lannister and Redwyne Fleets along with the majority of their naval might under the Lord Admiral Velaryon, they found themselves in a quite difficult position.

The meeting she had been a part of when the news had come to them had been interesting to say the least.

For the first time in her life, she had felt like a true dragon.

* * *

Her mother had called all of them that remained in Kingsport together to determine the best course of action. All knew how critical it was for their future that they triumph.

They could not afford a failure this early in the game.

They had all come together in what had long been declared, 'The War Room' in the New Palace.

Besides herself and her lady mother the Queen Dowager, those in attendance included: Lyanna, Ser Gerold Hightower, Ser Arthur Dayne, Ser Mark Ryswell, the leader of the Golden Company (Harry Strickland as well as his spy master), Jon Connington (who led the new regiments that had been dubbed 'The Legion of the Dragon'), Ser Jaime Lannister, Gerion Lannister, Egg (whom Haery had returned from the East with as she well knew her brother could only handle his boisterous nature for so long without his son as a shield and distraction), and surprisingly her young nephew, Prince Aelyx was allowed in council for the very first time.

Aelyx, who even though he had not quite reached his twelfth name day, had proven himself very adept as a dragon rider.

"Now that we are all here, let us begin." Rhaella declared.

"As I'm sure you all have heard by now, Lord Tywin has been at it again. He has, through whatever means, gained an alliance with Tyrosh, Lys, and Myr for the sole purpose of ending us before we come knocking on his door. With Viserys, Rhaenys, and Jaehaerys battling in the Stepstones to end the threat of the combined Lannister-Redwyne Fleet, and with Rhaegar still far to the east, we are in a delicate position. I have also just received word from the Crown Prince Jaehaerys." The Queen told them all.

"What does my son say, and how are the children?" Lyanna asked; anxious for both Rhaenys and Jaehaerys whom Dany knew she still thought to be too young to be off battling their enemies, but knowing they had in truth little choice in the matter if they were all to survive.

Rhaella smiled at her good-daughter. She well understood her worries as a mother herself as she too was just as worried for her children and grandchildren's sakes.

"They are all in good health and spirits. The Crown Prince said that he believes that himself, Rhaenys, and Aurane shall be able to deal with the threat of both Lys and Tyrosh themselves. Jaehaerys has already arranged with the Lord Admiral and Prince Oberyn to garrison the Stepstones after the Lannister-Redwyne Fleet has been dealt with by a combination of mostly Dornish troops and some few of our own men. It is his belief, and something that I too concur with, that Viserys and Vermithor will be enough protection for the Stepstones for the nonce with the aid of the Dornishmen. If they deal appropriately with the Lannister-Redwyne combine, there is no other naval power on the western shore of Westeros (with the exception of the Ironborn who won't be willing to raid as far away as the Stepstones) that is not already allied to us. That will free up Jaehaerys, Rhaenys, and Aurane Velaryon to accomplish the plan Jaehaerys had already come up with." She explained.

The former Bastard of the Driftmark had recently been legitimized by Haery with Rhaegar's approval as a long awaited reward when he'd been able to mount Syrax and fly with them in battle. It was a similar happenstance just like what his ancestor Adam of Hull had managed for Queen Rhaenyra, as was his reward.

"What plan is that, Your Grace?" Ser Jaime asked; having been unable to attend the meeting when Jaehaerys first arrived back from the east.

They now had a more definitive scope of how to go about achieving their goals and countering Lord Tywin if they acted quickly enough. Now was the time to iron out exactly how they were to implement all the necessary details and pieces in their game against the Old Lion.

"The Crown Prince wrote that if they are able to deal with the Lannister-Redwyne Fleet in a timely manner, than he would then have Rhaenys, Aurane, and himself immediately depart from Bloodstone and search out first for the Lyseni Fleet, and then the Tyroshi Fleet _before_ they have the chance to combine forces and meet up with the Myrish."

"We've already discussed what our response should be in regards to the Three Daughter's of course. Now, it is simply a matter of organizing and planning our counter. If the naval might of both Tyrosh and Lys is destroyed, the two city-states will be extremely vulnerable."

"Volantis will _not_ come to their aid. The Tigers have assured us on that front, and they are still laying the frame-work for our formal alliance with Volantenes. Therefore, once their navy's are eliminated, he will order the Lord Admiral Velaryon to blockade the both of them."

The Queen took another sip of her drink before finishing her explanation.

"Afterwards, once the larger threat of Myr has been dealt with, we shall be able to bear down upon them individually and en mass. Hopefully that will force them to accept the same type of union as their northern neighbors have already accepted." She explained to all those assembled.

"A fine plan, My Queen. I can see how that could work. Without their naval strength, Tyrosh and Lys would be extremely vulnerable. However what of Myr? Of the three, it is the larger threat." Ser Jaime asked; impressed once again by the Crown Prince's sharp mind and keen wits.

It had never been any wonder that Ser Jaime's little brother was counted as one of the Crown Prince's best friends and confidants. The two shared a great many similarities and interests in knowledge in all its forms. With Ser Jaime's own efforts in aiding the Royal Family, compounded with his brother's friendship with Rhaegar's heir, House Lannister was poised to not only regain the honor lost to them largely by Lord Tywin's actions, but also achieve the lasting legacy the Old Lion so craved.

Only it would be achieved in a manner and effort their child-killing father would never have managed: honest integrity with freely-given loyalty in conjunction with uncommon intellect and shared ingenuity.

Daenerys thoroughly expected Ser Jaime's brother to rise as one of Jaehaerys' most trusted advisors when his time for the throne came.

"Yes, Myr is the greater threat. It is also the one that will require _us_ to deal with. Initially in any case." The Queen agreed.

"Prince Jaehaerys suggested that the Dragon Legion depart Kingsport and Dragon's Rest and lay siege to Myr from the land side. He would send a small portion of the Fleet to join with the remaining ships we have now guarding Kingsport and Pentos to blockade Myr from the west."

"We can afford to do so as we know that Lord Stannis' fleet is the only large naval power that could come against us in the Narrow Sea, and he has long been our own man. He also suggested, and again I concur with him on the matter, that the Golden Company and at least one of the dragons and its rider be ready and available to continue to insure the security of our new union from the Dothraki." Rhaella explained.

"Agreed. The savages could have learned of all this and think to take advantage. That is especially so where Qohor and Norvos are concerned as their distance from our main bases could hinder us. Hopefully, that will be enough protection for the moment." Lyanna added.

"I do not foresee the Three Daughter's remaining belligerent for long when have dragons flying over their heads ready to reign down fire and blood upon them should they continue their defiance." The Queen elaborated.

They all absorbed the Queen's words as they thought out the pros and cons of such moves.

"Your Grace is likely right on that score. In the past, each of the Three Daughter's have always fought their own battles with largely foreign mercenaries. They've never been willing to risk a direct threat to their city or their free-born population. I doubt it will take much for all of them to submit if their pride can be made to stomach it. They think far too highly of themselves to risk very much in the way of destruction of their fine cities." Strickland stated.

Daenerys had an idea of how to help that along.

"Mother, you and I are the two best remaining dragon riders that we have available. If the two of us approached Myr from the east and converge with Jaehaerys and Rhaenys descending upon Myr from the west, the four of us should be more than enough to cow them into submission with perhaps a few demonstrations of exactly what our mounts are capable of."

Daenerys paused to collect her thoughts.

"I think the Three Daughter's merely need to be reminded of just how hot the flames of Valyria burn as they seem to have forgotten. As the last of the Forty, we are the only remaining heirs of the Freehold. They owe their very existence to us, and will be made to remember that fact." She stated forcefully.

"That would also still leave Egg and, if necessary- Aelyx too, as protection for those whom have already placed themselves under the banners of House Targaryen. If we are quick, and forceful enough, this could be an opportunity for us to reconstitute much of the Freehold than would have otherwise been possible." She'd said; proving to most that she was no longer merely the pretty little princess they once thought they knew.

She was now well and truly a she-dragon in the fiercest sense of the word.

The proud glint in the eyes of the Queen showed just how impressed she was with her only daughter.

Her mother smiled broadly at her.

"I could not have said it better myself, My Daughter. If there are no objections to this plan, then that is what we shall endeavor to accomplish." She said looking around the table.

No one had anything negative to say, even if Dany could tell that a few of them did not like it one bit that both she and her mother would be riding to battle on dragonback for the first time.

None dared to gainsay them however.

The Queen's look softened as she looked at her middle grandson.

"Aelyx, do you think you'd be able to help Aegon to make certain our people are protected whilst we're away?" She asked the young boy.

Dany was amused to watch him puff up his chest in pride at the Queen's question.

She saw the stoicism of his Stark blood when he nodded solemnly to his grandmother.

"Of course, Grandmother. I won't let you or my brother down. That, I promise you." Aelyx proclaimed.

"Good. I know you will do your best to protect them all." She told the young prince who seemed as proud as a peacock at his grandmother's words.

"Your Grace? Might I suggest allowing the men of my company to journey with Your Grace and the Princess? I believe we can use their distraction of both the Fleet and the dragons to infiltrate the city from the land side, and open the gates for the Dragon Legion. They have all trained hard for just such times." Ser Jaime suggested.

Several years ago, Rhaegar had charged Ser Jaime with forming a company of men of his own that had been training relentlessly as what Jaehaerys had later dubbed, 'Special Forces'. The company which was comprised of only a few hundred men were highly trained in all manner of stealth and secrecy.

They could act as a guerilla unit that could strike an enemy in the dead of the night with lightning-fast precision and stealth. They were then more than capable of vanishing before an enemy even became cognizant of the fact that they had been attacked in the first place. The company struck with devastating effect and accuracy.

They were also extremely adept in many forms of close-combat, and worked well as special units designed to breach an enemy's defenses without the enemy even knowing they had ever been there until it was far too late to counter them.

If they were allowed, this would be their first real test in the field, and she knew Ser Jaime was most eager to test their mettle.

The Queen looked thoughtful momentarily whilst thinking over Ser Jaime's suggestion.

"So be it. Bring your company, and travel with the Dragon Legion. You may do as you see fit to secure the gates of the city Ser Jaime." She agreed.

Jaime bowed his head; appearing rather eager to finally test his company's mettle in truth.

Considering that the Lady Ashara was with child once again, she had a sneaking suspicion that Ser Jaime had more than merely the desire to prove his men's worth on his mind.

His dear lady wife had been far more moody than normal with her latest pregnancy, and poor Ser Jaime had been the object of his lady wife's ire for some months now as the healing bruise on his comely face could attest to. (Admittedly, it did not help matters that Lyanna, as Ashara's best friend and confidant, had been thoroughly enjoying egging the lady on in her ire at being pregnant for the fifth time when she had previously stated that four children was more than enough for her.)

"Lord Connington, give the order for the Legions to prepare themselves and to begin to make for the City of Myr, and lay siege to it. If he believes he can bear the separation from his dear wife, Ser Jaime and his men shall accompany you, and we shall be joining you ourselves when we have heard from the Crown Prince. The Lannister-Redwyne Fleet must be dealt with first. Once he and the Princess Rhaenys are able to join us, my daughter and I will fly out to join you." Rhaella decided.

"Yes, My Queen." Lord Connington agreed in his usual seemingly grumpy tone.

It was only around Rhaegar that he ever lightened up, and even then, only just. He'd never been exactly popular within the family, and any of them only tolerated the surly man for Rhaegar's sake.

Numbers, logistics, and supplies had then been discussed by all before the details had been finalized and the Legion was given their marching orders.

Dany had known then that it would not be long now until she was able to re-join with her missing loved ones, and join battle with them in the skies.

She felt anticipation building within her that she'd never felt before.

Soon enough, she knew the world as they knew it would forever be and irrevocably changed.

* * *

She had been right too she thought as her mind returned to the task at hand.

She could see the Free City of Myr approaching in the distance; sprawling out all along the shores of the Narrow Sea. She would admit that it was indeed a splendid sight to look upon. The numerous spires and towers seemed to gleam in the sun's reflected light; bathing the city in its radiance.

That the city was prosperous was more than obvious.

Already she could see the grand residences of the city's magisters. Each manse seemingly grander than its predecessor as they all appeared to attempt to out-do their peers in splendor.

Near the center of the noble quarter, Dany spied what she assumed by the sheer magnificence of the construct to be the palace of the Myrrish Prince himself. The grand palace of the current and elected Prince of Myr was unrivaled in its opulence, and was admittedly a jewel to look upon. (1.)

Whether or not it would retain its standing and grandeur remained to be seen.

This was the largest of the so-called 'Three Daughters of Old Valyria'.

The city was famous for its fine hand-crafted goods of exquisite beauty such as lace, tapestries, and carpets. Such things were extremely sought after throughout the known world by the upper echelons of society.

While those were the positive traits of the city, it also held a much darker lineage.

For all the fine crafts and beautiful goods it produced, the city was just as famous for its great number of slaves. What one did not see at first glance were the thousands upon thousands of slaves that did the actual labor to render such magnificence in to existence. In that singular distinction, Myr shared even more similarities with its two sister states.

The slaves out-numbered the freeborn three to one at the least.

As the region was considered one of the most culturally advanced areas of the known world, such a distinction was ill-earned in Dany's opinion.

Slavery was an institution that she found absolutely abhorrent.

It was anathema to everything she stood for.

While the family had planned to begin a slow and careful shift within the slave cities of Western Essos to instituting indentured servitude, generous pay-offs to the former masters, and the gradual and eventual freedom of the servile class; their alliance with the Usurper and Tywin Lannister had caused an abrupt shift in their immediate goals.

Their own ill-thought actions had put paid to Rhaegar's initial plans and generosity.

She had known that her eldest and most beloved brother had not initially held any intention of directly interfering in the running of Tyrosh, Lys, or Myr for a large number of years- if indeed he ever made any moves against them.

They did plan to gain the willing allegiance of those three city states sometime in the distant future, but they'd not held any desire to force them into anything against their wills for many years yet to come.

Their alliance against her family with their sworn enemies soon swept all such notions of non-involvement aside.

The mere fact that they dared to raise arms against the Dragons would not be born with impunity.

They would reap what they had sown.

* * *

Now, she was soaring above the errant city atop Silverwing as she kept a look-out for those she had missed the most.

Dany could feel that they were extremely close.

She felt it in her very bones.

Their bond was all but singing to her, and she knew by that alone that they were indeed close, and getting nearer by the second. She could also feel their own sense of anticipation for both the coming battle as well as the prospect of being reunited with her.

She could hardly wait.

The time was now upon them as she saw her mother steer her dragon into position.

She watched on as the Queen began to reign down dragonfire from atop her own mount Maelys; a beautiful she-dragon of a light violet coloring that was quite reminiscent of the Queen's own eyes.

In that moment, she did not think she'd ever seen her mother quite so alive as she was flying on Maelys. She was calling out commands in High Valyrian as they took out a great many of the archers manning the outer city walls of Myr.

That had been the pre-arranged signal she knew to begin.

It was time to dance.

Now, it was time for her own part in the action as she nudged Silverwing in her mind to descend closer to the battlements.

When she saw the Queen beginning to act, she was to begin doing the same with her own dragon on the portions of the city walls nearest to her.

They were to be the first frontal attack of their army.

Daenerys herself had been given the task to remove as many of the archers and men manning the walls as possible. It was hoped that their own forces would be able to assault the walls and take the gates with far less casualties than would have otherwise been the case if the defenders were still reigning down arrows and boiling pitch upon the Legion.

"Dracarys!" She yelled out in High Valyrian as Silverwing began to shoot out large bursts of silver flames upon the soldiers manning that area of the wall.

By the gods! The feeling of loosing dragonfire down upon their enemies was utterly intoxicating.

The feel of power coursing thru her veins was monumental. As blood and magic seemed to roar in her ears, and Silverwing's own joy and battle lust joined together; merging with her own...She'd never felt such total and exquisite joy as she did in that moment with the power of life and death right there at the tip of her fingers.

Now she knew what the others had warned her of.

Jaehaerys had always made sure she knew what to expect for when her time came, and that she was prepared to fight it.

She knew one could not possibly understand this all-encompassing feeling of euphoric addiction to the rush of adrenaline and power one felt battling on dragonback.

The power was a truly intoxicating experience.

Her eyes were blown wide with pleasure; pupils dilated and black as the magic swirled through her violet eyes.

Her mind ground to a halt as she did her absolute best to reign in her emotions.

No.

She would not allow herself to be ruled by her passions and power, no matter how good it felt.

She could not allow Silverwing's lust for destruction and carnage to consume her.

It was only with an almighty lurch and a forceful exertion of her will and magic that she managed to overcome the haze of beautiful, glorious destruction her mind desired to become so immersed within.

She would not allow the dragon's desire for wanton terror to rule her.

She was a dragon too, and she'd be damned before she allowed those base instincts to overcome her better sense and disappoint her love.

She steered Silverwing higher for a moment as she forcefully regained control over herself.

Breathing deeply, she felt her magic humming with approval that she'd conquered the more beastial instincts.

It filled her will a new feeling of power that was all her own.

It was her power...not the dragon's instinct.

She then reigned in Silverwing's own lusts, and forced her will upon her mount as they descended back towards the city walls with a new-found determination to succeed raging within her.

Now that she was once again in control, she began to fly to every strategic location where the enemy remained strong; systematically weakening their positions to give their own men assaulting the walls the freedom to strike with far less threat to their lives.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw a massive, lurid green explosion rock the world around it. The sound went off like an earth-shattering boom; shaking the walls enough to even topple a few of the remaining enemy archers. She knew then that Ser Jaime's men had succeeded.

The explosion was set off on the main gates whilst the enemy had been distracted by her and her mother's dragonfire. The main portion of the wall now free of enemy archers, and the gate was theirs.

The tide of the battle had just turned.

Dany was still in awe of the explosive compound used. It seemed to be even more destructively brilliant than she'd thought. Of course, it was yet another of Jaehaerys' little projects.

Haery had helped them to discover a newer method of using wildfire that had never been used before.

She had not been exactly certain how he had done it (as it was normally far too unstable to be used in conjunction with any other substance).

 _Somehow_ he managed to use a combination of silver and iron that when bonded together and placed within the alchemical mixture of wildfire, had the potential to destabilize and even explode solid steel.

The magic he used was of the type that only he had access to as far as any of them were aware. It required him to actively force his own distinctively unique type of magic into the potion he'd created. The mixture then managed to bind the iron and silver together without managing to cause the wildfire to explode on contact; (which had previously been the result of any and all attempts in modifying the alchemical composition of wildfire).

The wildfire concoction would then be doused upon whatever one wished to explode (in this case a massive gate of solid steel), and would not ignite until a spark of flame was shot at the mixture.

She noticed Ser Jaime's men had flattened themselves all along the base of the walls when the detonation occurred in order to avoid the massive green blast of steel shrapnel that resulted in the immediate deaths of any unfortunate enough to be near the blast radius.

Another side-effect of the potion and bonding used, was that unlike the smoke from either a normal fire, or even the grey-green smoke wildfire usually produced; the transformed wildfire emitted a smoke of the densest black.

The black cloud amidst the blast radius made it impossible to see anything that was occurring within the cloudy mist; giving a distinct advantage if one knew beforehand and could properly utilize the moment.

She did not need to be able to see it to know the Ser Jaime would have had his men infiltrate the entire area of where the steel gate would have previously been in place. By the time the smoke cleared, Ser Jaime's 'Wildcats', as he'd named them, would have the perimeter secured for the regiments of the Dragon Legions to begin pouring into the City of Myr.

It could not have happened at a better time either.

Dany let out a victorious battle-cry in joy as she had just spotted the massive red and black dragon approaching from the west and sea-side of the city. It was soon followed closely by the fiery-colored red and orange dragon with a beautiful dark-haired warrior princess riding atop the beast.

The red and black dragon was naturally riderless.

Daenerys could feel her heart soaring at the site of her most beloved kin.

Dany laughed out loud when she heard her mother the Queen's answering battle cry of imminent victory.

Their men were pouring into the city now as she and her mother began to fly closer to them to insure any large numbers of enemy troops remaining within the city were burned before they could deal too much damage to the Legion.

Up ahead, she saw vast plumes of smoke beginning to soar into the air as it appeared a joint effort between Sunfyre and Haery's own form had destroyed a portion of the sea-side city walls that had allowed a some of their marines to enter the city from that end.

Flying a little higher to get a better vantage point, she saw a large portion of the stone walls had actually been melted down. It was reminiscent of the tales of Harrenhal, and the fate of Harren the Black's infamous stronghold. She was surprised by that due to the obviously misleading rumors of the walls being spelled against dragonfire when the city was a founded as a colony of Valyria.

That, or the ages had worn the magic away.

The two sides of their men were converging together and spreading out all across the city. The Dragon Legion was taking out all opposition they came across.

She was heartened to know that their orders were also being obeyed.

The Queen and Jaehaerys had both given instructions to their men that there was to be no sacking of the city. They had not come only to burn and conquer. They had come to rule. There would have been very little point in attempting to rule a burned out shell of a city.

No, Myr was by far more valuable left in tact.

She was also pleased to note that she was almost certain she was seeing some of the slaves beginning to help the armies of House Targaryen take control of the city.

She knew the tales of what Rhaegar and Jaehaerys had accomplished in Slaver's Bay had likely made it to the Three Daughter's general population by now, and was heartened to see that so large a portion of the city was viewing them more as liberators than invaders.

Hopefully they would be able to find appropriate new lives for the mass amounts of soon-to-be former slaves. Daenerys would do everything in her power to aid in making the transition from bondage to freedmen as easy as possible for all.

Her heart began to beat faster indeed with what she saw next.

Fast approaching in her direction from above the city were Rhaenys and Jaehaerys.

Finally, they would be together.

Now, she would let nothing break them apart.

* * *

Just as her heart was beginning to feel full and content; thinking that the hardest portion of the fight was now over, she saw something that made her blood run cold.

Almost as if it were moving in slow motion, she saw a scorpion bolt flying through the air from somewhere unseen upon the roof of one of the grander manses.

It was headed straight at Jaehaerys' unprotected flank.

Although she was unable to do anything about the danger approaching her beloved, she tried her best to warn him.

Instinctually channeling as much magic into her voice as she was able, Dany screamed out; praying he'd hear her.

" _Behind_ _you_!"

Her voice rang through the air, and to her immense surprise and relief, Haery appeared to have realized she was speaking to him.

His massive form made an abrupt turn of direction the second her voice registered.

Not a moment too soon either it appeared as the scorpion bolt was no longer aimed directly for the center of his form. Instead, the steel weapon grazed along the length of a portion of Haery's spiked tail; skimming the more volatile underside of the long appendage.

His dragon form screeched in surprised shock, and Dany watched on in enraged anger as dark red blood dripped from her beloved.

Dragonblood had been spilled!

Despite knowing full well that it was in truth a rather minor flesh wound, all four of the dragons present roared in absolute fury, and she and her mother began making their way closer to Haery and Rhaenys' location to dole out some well-earned retribution for daring to spill the blood of the dragon.

Daenerys was so focused on reaching Haery and Rhaenys' side as quickly as possible that she did not keep a sharp enough look out for any threat to herself.

She was therefore much surprised when just as she was reaching their position, she saw Haery literally diving down towards Silverwing and herself at impossible speeds she'd not known a dragon was even capable of.

So fast was the massive red dragon coming at them that both Dany and Silverwing were too stunned to react.

Just before he would have collided with them, the red dragon forcefully made an immediate about turn.

With a powerful thrust of tremendous force, his tough leathered wings stretched out to their maximum breadth. He drew himself up to his full and impressive height; flaring out before Daenerys to his full length. The red dragon's body was rigid and his muscles were tightly coiled. There was a menacing air about him that was full of deadly grace as he seemed to virtually hover in place.

She knew his magic had to be hard at work keeping him aloft in such a position as his large wings were barely even moving. They only seemed to be covering as much of Dany and the silver dragon as they possibly could.

He was absolutely magnificent flying before her; daring anything to come at such a terrifying beast. The red monstrosity cut such a glorious figure that he somehow managed to blot out the sun itself.

He was shielding Dany and Silverwing from any and all harm.

She was fast to realize why he had so abruptly covered them when she almost immediately heard Jaehaerys' ear-shattering roar of undisguised fury and pain.

Haery had taken a direct hit on his dragon form's softer underbelly from another scorpion bolt.

From the position it hit him, she knew it would have struck directly onto herself had he not intercepted the sharp steel in her stead!

While it was unlikely to have been overly dangerous to a dragon, such a strike would have undoubtedly been positively lethal to Dany's human body.

Suddenly, the very air around them became inexplicably charged with a raging crescendo of heat and magic.

Jaehaerys' fury steadily mounted until it reached a never before witnessed level of such malicious anger and all-consuming hate that it rendered all around them breathless and awed. All were thoroughly shocked to see a bright green aura of deadly eldritch light envelop the red dragon that was now staring at the roof of the manse the attack upon them had originated from.

She was certain, even without the confirmation she could intimately feel all but singing from their bond, that he was not upset that his own form had been mildly injured.

No, he was utterly enraged that anyone had dared to not just fire upon not Silverwing, but that they had been aiming for the she dragon's beautiful rider.

They had just tried to kill his mate!

Such an act would not go unpunished.

From atop Silverwing, Dany flinched violently when two more scorpion bolts suddenly struck out at Jaehaerys' form before any of them had begun to react.

What made the sight even more shocking however, was when the spear-like shaft that the bolt's lethally sharp steel tip was fastened upon suddenly burst into bright green magical fire. The fire similar to the aura radiating from the draconic prince himself was eerily akin to wildfire in it's color and ferocity. The undeniably magical fire was so intense that sharp steel warped and dulled enough that the damage from the impact was minimal. Only the bolt's momentum allowed it to break through his scales at all.

This time, he did not let out even a whimper of the pain she knew he had to be in.

Dany did not waist any more time in shock, and immediately flew Silverwing to his side.

Whether the red dragon wanted her there or not, he would not face any enemy alone!

She was not alone in her movements either.

Both her mother and Rhaenys had quickly joined them; flanking the pair on either side.

All four dragons were looking down upon the roof of the large mansion that the attack originated from with narrowed slitted eyes that promised a most painful ending to any that dwelled there.

No planning was necessary between them as they all abruptly went into a dive towards the location where they could see three scorpions mounted upon the roof.

Dany idly wondered at that.

In ages past, when aerial attack from dragons was not so unheard of, such a thing could have been feasible. However, it had been _centuries_ since any attack by dragon had been even a remote possibility in Essos. It had to have been at least four hundred years!

That was either an exceptionally old and well maintained manse from the era when Myr was a Valyrian colony, or someone had tried make a pre-meditated hit upon them!

Dany banished her suspicious thoughts as she and her loved ones neared the origin of the attack.

The men on the roof below, (who she noted did not appear to be guards or slaves but rather nobles of some kind) had taken aim with the scorpions directed at them once again. They appeared to be rightly terrified of having gained the full and undivided attention of the four large dragons approaching them, and were scrambling to get off another round.

Dany could almost taste the amount of sheer desperation pouring off the bastards in waves.

She felt no pity for them whatsoever.

The filth had tried to murder her _and_ her beloved.

They would burn to a man. That was all there was to it.

If anyone could have seen them from the air, they would have marveled watching them.

It looked almost like a choreographed aerial dance as the four large dragons surrounded the mansion; flying in sync to perfect positions just above the four corners. All four of them reared back simultaneously as the dragons inhaled. Just as the men below were about to loose another volley from the scorpions, the beautiful sound of High Valyrian was heard from the three female dragon riders.

"Dracarys!"

The word sounded more like a melodic beat in an Old Valyrian song than the destructive command that it was.

Instantly, four torrential bursts of dragonfire came pouring out of each of the dragons; incinerating anything that happened to be on the roof instantly- be they man or tool.

It did not stop with the initial burst either.

Dragonfire reigned down upon the burning building in such a large combination from the four dragons that the manse was not just steadily burning in ever-increasing heat, but was actually beginning to melt.

When complete, the dragons pulled back into the air and surveyed their handiwork.

All that remained were some pools of melted stone and what appeared to be the burned-out shell of what was once a basement; charred and blackened beyond any recognition. The whole ground where the mansion once stood had been slightly bowled out, and resembled more of a tarred pit than the proud manse that once stood tall towering over the city.

Dany hoped it was a lesson well learned to any others that would contemplate direct attacks upon them in such manner.

This time, the four of them all remained close afterwards.

They began flying back and forth across the partially burning city to aid their men in defeating the last pieces of Myrrish resistance being made mostly in the noble quarter of the city.

Barricades and other attempts at defense were positioned haphazardly here and there throughout the city that their soldiers were quickly overcoming. Each of the remaining defenses began falling faster and faster as the dragons reigned down small bursts of fire when they came upon the barricades. This allowed their men a much easier (and safer) time in subduing the opposition.

After a couple of hours of aiding their men in quickly over-coming any defense with ease, they saw a sight that pleased them all immensely.

Over the top of what Dany assumed to be the residence of the current Prince of Myr, a white flag of surrender was being hoisted atop.

As the thousands of their men cheered, another standard was being quickly raised beside the white flag- the red on black dragon banners of House Targaryen.

For the capitulation of Myr, any hope evaporated for her sister city's of Tyrosh and Lys; blockaded and starving as they currently were. Reminiscent of a falling house of cards, the surrender of the largest of the Three Daughter's heralded the rise of their new empire. With little exception, nearly all of western Essos was now under the three-headed dragon banners of their family, or they soon would be. Those that were not integral parts of the new kingdom were already staunch allies and friends.

Lyanna and Rhaegar were now truly the sovereigns of an empire, and Dany felt immense pride that she was now a central member of a imperial family.

They were on the way to greatness, and nothing would stop them.

No more would she be separated from those she loved either. That, she swore.

She had proven herself in battle, and she would not be deterred. She was proud to be a shield-maiden of their dynasty and not some Andal flower most noble girls in their homeland were raised to be.

Dany would not allow herself to be torn from Haery's side again if at all possible.

Not now, and not ever.

They were always so much more together as apart.

Apart, they were incomplete.

Only with all three side by side did they feel whole and at peace.

She could hardly wait.

The future had never looked brighter.

That night when they took residence in their new Myrrish palace, Dany did not hesitate any longer.

The sight of her beloved diving in front of those scorpion bolts to save her was something that would never leave her mind.

 _She could have lost him_.

She tended his wounds herself. Due to his and his dragon form's magic, he was already beginning to heal; much to her relief.

As Dany tenderly pressed her full lips against Jaehaerys' own for the first time, she staked her claim on him as her own. She could sense from their bond that Rhaenys had already acted similarly, and would allow for no miscommunication. She felt no jealousy from their part of the bond; only the feeling of rightness completing her when she deepened it from her end. He was theirs, and theirs alone.

No one else would ever be allowed to take him from them.

Feeling her beautiful nephew's own joy at her daring act, Haery did not waste a moment in reciprocating the love she could inherently feel thrumming heatedly through their bond. There would be no mistaking what she felt for him ever again.

She loved her sweet Jaehaerys with all her heart, and she would not change a single thing about her life. The future looked truly amazing, and she knew she would never lack for love nor affection. She would never be alone.

And she was content.

Despite Dany's best efforts though, she was about to learn just how much the gods love to mock the plans of mortals.

* * *

 ** _Theon I. POV_**

He wondered when exactly his life had begun the downward spiral he now seemed wholly incapable of extricating himself from. Events had happened too fast for his brain to truly comprehend, and now his entire life had once again been completely turned upon its head. Self-pity was ever a frequent indulgence of his, and now was no different. It seemed as if he would forever lack the courage and will power necessary to act on his own desire and belief.

Of course he was only fooling himself.

He knew exactly when it all changed, right down to the _exact_ moment in time.

The moment he opened the letter smuggled to him by his father was the very second that set everything into motion. It had all come undone from that point onward.

Had he even been capable of standing for his own beliefs?

He knew he hadn't.

He was exactly what so many had claimed him to be: _weak_.

When it came to his desire for family and their recognition, he was inherently so.

He had not had any form of contact with Balon Greyjoy in nearly an entire decade.

Not one letter had he received from his father after he was sent to the ' _Greenlands_ '.

It had been as if he were Rodrik or Maron, and that to Balon- he too...was dead.

Dead...and never to return.

That had been the hardest part of it all.

He was not dead, nor was he Rodrik or Maron.

He was alive and well, and his own father scorned him for his own mistakes in surrendering his own child to his enemies.

He would admit that after being educated in Winterfell, and seeing how the rest of Westeros functioned, he believed his father's ill-thought rebellion to be the height of idiocy.

Paying the Iron Price and the Olde Way of the Ironborn sounded adventurous and right as a small child at his father's knee. Seeing the results of such folly... _living_ the results of such folly...and what it all really meant to the people affected by the Olde Way (as Ned Stark had made certain during his education he was fully made aware of in order to understand the people of Westeros' point of view on the Ironborn), had granted him a more realistic view altogether.

The Olde Way was dead, and it was never coming back.

The time for such things had long since past, and if they wished to survive as a people, another way of life _must_ be found.

If he had kept his rebellion to attacking a single region that was _not_ in favor with Robert Baratheon, things may have been entirely different.

However, he had attacked Lannisport as his very first target.

That had been supreme idiocy made manifest in the full view of the whole continent. Not being content with that, they'd set upon Seagard next; drawing the ire of the entirety of the Seven Kingdoms, and actually managing to unite them in a way nothing else could have.

How he expected to defeat them all, Theon had never understood.

Now, as his father's _only remaining son_...it had been _him_ that had suffered for Balon's mistakes these past many years.

 _Suffered_ was the wrong word, he knew that.

He may have been a hostage of the Starks to insure his father's good behavior, but he'd never been treated as such.

He well knew he'd never have been received with anything approaching similar treatment in any of the other regions of Westeros. He knew that beyond any doubt.

He'd been treated far more like a member of the family by the Starks than as a hostage. Ned Stark had diligently instructed him on the duties and obligations of being a lord the same as he had his own children. He'd been shown far more courtesy and respect by his captors than he ever remembered receiving by his own family- by his father especially!

He'd grown up as the Heir of Winterfell's best friend and as a brother in all but blood. He knew few men would have ever have had a truer friend than he'd found in Robb Stark.

Robb would have done anything for him.

And because of the first and _only_ letter he'd ever received from Balon Greyjoy, he'd repaid that brotherly bond with death and betrayal.

Admittedly, he was unsure what he could have done differently that would have kept his head on his shoulders.

Balon's letter had been simple.

He was once again going to reave the North, but this time it was to be different.

This time he was launching the offensive with the full approval of both Robert Baratheon and with the backing of Tywin Lannister himself.

If Theon did not do as he was bid, he knew Ned Stark would be honor-bound to take his head for his father's breaching of the peace.

Balon was going to carry out his designs with or without Theon's help.

If he did not aid in the capture of his best friend and brother in all but name, his own head would be on a spike in Winterfell- _or so he told himself_.

In the darker recess of his mind, he knew Lord Stark would look upon the situation differently due to the fact his father was working on Robert Baratheon's behalf now. He knew in his heart that he most likely would have merely been held the same as he always had- a hostage and possible replacement for his father when the North put down the Iron Islands themselves.

He could have stayed loyal to the Starks.

He _should_ have stayed loyal to the Starks.

However, the part of him that was forever desperate for Balon's favor...the younger boy he used to be that was ever in the shadow of his more martial brother's...that integral part of himself had yearned for the paternal approval that had ever been missing in his life.

He'd told himself he had been left with no choice.

It was _them_ or _him_.

But he knew deep down that was a lie.

His fatal flaw had ever been his pride.

His over-whelming pride would not suffer him to be at the sufferance of the Starks when he had the opportunity to turn the tables.

'Pride cometh before the fall.'

The words had slithered silkily like a serpent through his mind; whispering warnings to him of the path he was about to tread.

He'd not paid it any heed.

To his everlasting shame, he'd done exactly as he'd been instructed to do.

He had placed the poison into the broth he'd uncharacteristically aided in the preparation of; being careful to insure the rabbit he and Robb would be eating themselves was untainted.

He'd thought whatever the substance was would only render the men accompanying them temporarily unconscious- not dead.

But they were.

He'd used what was widely considered a woman's weapon, and the results had been terrible to bear. His weakness had resulted in twelve men of various rank and age all dead because of him and his insecurities...and his unyielding pride.

Robb was unconscious from a couple drops of Sweet-Sleep.

At least _that_ had been the correct drug. Unlike whatever he had slipped into the soup.

They'd been heading towards the Karhold, and had been about half of the way there. He'd suggested they make camp for the night when they neared the collapsed old keep he'd been told to insure they stayed near.

He had been expecting to find men of the Iron Islands.

That was not what was awaiting them.

 _'Boltons'_. He thought with a shiver.

Boltons had been where he'd thought to find men from his father.

They were being led by Roose Bolton's bastard son, Ramsey Snow.

He'd heard tales of the bastard for years now.

Everyone in the North had heard of him and his horrors. The truth of the disgusting man was far worse than the tales could have hoped to describe.

The look he was given by his brother in all but blood upon regaining consciousness and becoming cognizant of his surroundings...and realizing the only way they could ended up as such...was one of the utmost loss and betrayal.

The look in the Tully blue eyes of Robb Stark upon realizing all had been arranged by his own best friend was one of devastating betrayal and tempered with fury beyond reckoning.

Still, he'd thought Robb being a hostage was better than the alternative.

Robb would be used to force Ned Stark into submission.

At least, he was supposed to have been used thus.

That's what he'd been led to believe.

He could not bring himself to admit that nowhere had such a thing actually been hinted at.

He remembered it was well into that first night, and he'd felt something hard hit him in the back of the head. That was when he really began to worry and knew no more.

When he woke, everything was changed.

Now, he was the prisoner.

And Robb...Robb was...He could hardly bring himself to acknowledge what was now an undeniable truth.

 _Robb Stark was dead_.

He could not stomach to look at the corpse of what had once been his best friend.

What he'd been made to suffer...the agony he'd endured...it was unthinkable.

'It was not supposed to be this way! This was never supposed to happen! It wasn't part of the plan!'

He'd yelled at the Bastard in impotent rage.

None of it was.

It had not mattered.

The Bastard had just laughed at him. He'd laughed...and he'd laughed...and he'd laughed. It was as if Theon had just told the funniest joke in the world.

He was soon to realize, the joke was entirely on him.

Whatever agreement there was between Balon Greyjoy, Roose Bolton, and Tywin Lannister; neither Robb's life, nor his own had been a matter of import.

Robert Baratheon and Tywin Lannister did not _want_ any Stark hostages. They wanted their heads. They wanted their heads by any means necessary- every single last one of them no matter their sex or age.

The Bastard said his father would be told he'd been killed by Stark guardsmen in the attempt at capturing Robb. Balon would not look to question it, as he'd long consigned Theon Greyjoy dead to him anyway. How and when it _actually_ happened was of no consequence to him.

The black truth as it was explained to him had robbed him of all sense of self.

He did not wish to believe such...but he knew it was true.

He knew all of it was true. Whatever Balon may have claimed, he could not have cared less.

The look the Bastard was now giving him terrified him more than anything in his life ever had.

He'd never known such terror. He'd actually never known that such terror could even be felt by one person.

He thought he'd known the meaning of the word pain before.

He had been wrong- as usual.

He learned the _real_ meaning of pain soon enough, just as he was learning what his new name was to be.

He was now _Reek_.

And he was Lord Ramsey's favorite toy- his own favorite having been taken from him.

The tiny, infinitesimal portion of himself in the darkest corner of his mind that remained Theon Greyjoy...the miniscule spark of humanity left remaining to him...it knew he deserved _all_ of his suffering. All of it... _and more_...for his betrayal of the only real brother he'd ever had.

It was his penance, and he would endure.

* * *

(1.)- I was unable to find out much in the way of how exactly the City of Myr was governed. Unlike Pentos or Volantis, I could not find a description that I remembered from the books or the Wiki. So, just assume it's the same as Pentos though I'm fairly certain it is not.- Thanks-


End file.
